Wayward Magic

by Melinda Kucsera et al.

  “Once,” said the minotaur with a nod. “When I was near death and filled with Kurgen’Kahl’s radiance. But it was nothing compared to that.”

  “Well, be that as it may, you can thank me now.”

  “Thank you? For what?” asked Al.

  “What are you, deaf? I got Larashu to grant you your wish, despite you getting me stabbed and breaking your oath.”

  “Does … does that mean I’m pregnant?”

  The Baron of Wings laughed. “No, of course not. Larashu said that on this night, the second full moon in the time of spring, will you be fertile, for him.”

  Urk was so stunned by the revelation he couldn’t even think. He hadn’t really expected to survive this all, let alone be rewarded. “So we …”

  “Have sex, yes,” said the baron with an amused grin. “And if I were you, I would get to it. Time is different here in the Bounds Reverie, but a day is still a day.”

  The Baron of Wings lifted into the air and turned south. “I would love to watch, but I do have a house to put in order and people to educate. It seems many have forgotten why one does not betray Auvithia. When you are finished and the little boy or girl or whatever is born, I do hope you will come and visit. I feel like something of a godparent.”

  The Baron of Wings laughed as he soared off toward the Aerie, his glowing wings leaving a rainbow of light in his wake. Urkjorman considered the fairy lord for only a moment before taking Al’rashal in his arms. “One night.”

  “A good night.”

  They kissed.

  Al’rashal and Urkjorman learn what couples have learned since the start of time. Parenting is the most difficult job in the world! It takes sacrifice, heart, and maybe a little bit of magic. Can they protect their family, their children or will they learn the one lesson a parent never should? That nothing is more painful than outliving a child. Find out in Forgotten Magic.

  About the Author

  S. Wallace is an aspiring author who's just hit the scene. Their stories range from the far future to realms of magic and monsters with yet more to come. They look forward to showing you all the great stories they’re producing and sharing the amazing ones they’re reading. See you between the pages!

  For more information about the author, please visit: www.amazon.com/-/e/B0829M14QS To keep up to date on upcoming stories.

  Don't forget to grab your copy of next anthology, Forgotten Magic, now!

  The Deh’anin Unveiled

  Alesha Escobar

  When Augustina seeks dangerous magic, it will either bring her great power or destruction. This story is about a villain who can't help but try and tame wayward magic. Writing this story was an interesting and challenging departure from my usual protagonists who tend to be the “heroes” or “good guys.” Please enjoy!

  Alesha Escobar

  Being branded as a Dabbler in the Dark Arts is the least of Augustina's worries. She's an exile on a mission, and she's just been given her deadliest task. She seeks forbidden magic which will place her above other dark mages in a powerful hierarchy, where only the strong survive.

  Augustina gathered her burgundy cloak about her as she knelt before the governor in Divhan Hall. She had run all the way from the Temple ruins. As her own sharp intake of breath pierced the silence looming in the hall, she dared not look Ialen Divhan in the face until he had addressed her. All she could think was how she would convince the Dark Lord to send her to Rhinland without revealing her plans. Would he even consent if she did have a valid reason?

  Although she was Divhan’s apprentice, she was not trusted—certainly not trusted to leave his sight. Two years ago, when she had failed in an important mission, she had come to Boathe only to receive a cold welcome from the governing Dark Council. She had to start all over again in the eyes of most.

  At first she was grateful to play the errand-girl, carrying messages back and forth among Divhan, his staff, and other Dark Lords. She even waited on guests in Lord Divhan’s castle as if she were a lowborn maid. But now, she was near her breaking point and believed that the Dark Council would never see her debt as paid.

  “Augustina,” Divhan said as he shifted in his dark chair. “I’m assigning you an undertaking that I believe will be nearly impossible to blunder.”

  Her cheeks reddened. “My Lord, how may I serve you?”

  “I am glad you’re still eager to do what I ask,” he said wryly. “But let’s be open with each other. I know you returned to Boathe expecting retribution for your mistakes,”—he hissed the last word, allowing it to linger—“but as you well know, the information you gave us was useful. Where Ronan Silvanus failed in his tutelage, we will succeed.”

  “Lord Divhan,” Augustina said, her gray eyes meeting his. “I understand that many here in Boathe perceive me as…weak. However, I feel my progress in my training speaks for itself.” She handed him a crystal vial. The liquid inside glowed a warm golden-yellow.

  Divhan held the vial to view. “Very good. I’ve not seen this one in thirty years. Your Helper must be a skilled spirit.”

  The vial contained a magical substance that would be examined by a special group of mages. The Dark Lords believed that the composition of such substances with the aid of Helper spirits would unlock the key to the Grand Elixir—a brew that granted immortality.

  Creating one’s portion was not like mixing ingredients in a cooking pot. Less than half of the trainees actually managed to create a magically infused blend, and some of them ended up falling prey to their own Helpers. The fact that Divhan was impressed with her mixture eased Augustina’s tension. It gave her hope that he would grant her request to go to Rhinland.

  “I’m glad that my blend pleases you. Perhaps this means I can have more freedom?”

  Divhan scoffed. “The fact remains that you let Corabelle Lansing escape. So did Lord Ronan, and for that, he rightly died.”

  The unspoken threat of and so could you, hung in the air.

  “Then what is this new mission, my Lord?” Augustina rose from her position. Her knees ached.

  Divhan’s lips parted in an answer, but silently closed when the hall door opened and shut. A hooded figure in black entered. Augustina instinctively turned but hesitated to kneel or bow. She could usually recognize other dark mages and Lords even with their hoods up, but this person was unfamiliar. Also, she could not sense a trace of magic on the visitor, so he probably wasn’t even a mage.

  “Ialen Divhan,” a soft, feminine voice spoke from under the hood. “Is everything in order for my trip?”

  Divhan’s eyes narrowed at the woman’s offhand address. Not only was he a member of the Dark Council, he was also a Dark Lord, and governor of the southeast province of Boathe.

  “Of course, Lady Akela. Augustina will join you and obey you in all things.” His gaze darted between the two women, waiting for a response.

  “So, this is your apprentice?” Akela asked, lifting her hood and revealing her delicate face. Her black eyes sparkled with intelligence and mirth. Her pitch-black hair was pulled back into a single long braid, and she stood at least a head taller than Augustina.

  “Lord Divhan,” Augustina said. “May I ask where I am to go with this…woman?”

  “You may call me Mylen,” the woman answered. “And any further questions will be addressed to me. From now on, I am your new mistress.”

  Augustina bit her tongue in an effort to avoid lashing out. Who did this woman think she was? And why did she suddenly look familiar to her?

  As if reading her thoughts, Mylen assured her, “I am a mage, and why I choose to cloak my powers is none of your concern. All you need to know is that I am the one who requested that Divhan train you, and that I control whether you live or die.”

  Augustina stiffened then gave her a slight bow. “Of course, Mistress Mylen.”

  This could’ve been just another test, or even a cruel joke, but if she was going to leave Boathe with this woman, this could be her opportunity to escape and chase after that m
ap. If she could find the famed Black Rod, she would be the one determining others’ fates.

  “You will accompany Lady Akela to Rhinland,” Divhan told Augustina. “You are to assist her in bringing down House d’Eveka and aid in the rise of a dark mage who will take over the Kingdom.”

  The color drained from Augustina’s face at the mention of her home country. She had planned to go there in secret to find the Black Rod, not to overthrow an entire blasted government! Now she knew it was a cruel joke. “M-my Lord,” she stammered. “Surely you know that I can’t…openly reveal myself in Rhinland.”

  Of course he did. The smug look he displayed said it all. Augustina was wanted for murder and subject to immediate arrest and execution in Rhinland.

  “You needn’t worry about that,” Mylen said in a charming voice. “We can change your hair color, and you will not be outdoors much.”

  “And I suppose for extra measure I should keep my head meekly lowered?” Augustina’s mouth twisted into a frown when she realized she had let these words slip out.

  Mylen smiled. “I forgot you were a highborn lady in your land, Augustina. You should take pride then, in serving me, for I am also highborn and greater than any.”

  Augustina immediately shot a bewildered look at Divhan. The Dark Lord shifted uncomfortably in his chair and raised his hand in the customary Boathean fashion of parting.

  “Have a safe journey, my Ladies, and may the Lord of the Underworld give you victory.”

  Mylen reverently tilted her head at the mention of the god Dehawk, whom all dark mages professed to serve.

  “Farewell, my Lord.” Augustina curtsied.

  “Goodbye, Ialen Divhan,” Mylen unceremoniously added. “And Augustina will complete her training with me. It seems you’ve actually started to believe that you were a Cleric…a true servant of Dehawk.”

  Divhan stared blankly at her although he was clearly trying to control his anger. Augustina calmed her features, hiding the shock of seeing someone treating Lord Divhan with such little regard. Who was this woman?

  Mylen readjusted her hood and swiftly headed toward the exit. Augustina trailed behind her. Just as they reached the hall door, Mylen paused and faced Augustina.

  “I think red hair will go nicely on you.”

  Augustina had to force herself not to protectively grab her golden locks. “I…was thinking the same thing.”

  The other woman’s lips curved into an ingratiating smile. “We shall see how alike we think.”

  “Mistress?”

  “What is it?”

  “Forgive me, but has anyone ever told you that you resemble—”

  “Yes, and I wish they wouldn’t.”

  Augustina knew to leave it at that. She followed her through the doorway, now with even more questions running through her mind.

  Carving a path for herself through the mass of people assembled in the merchant district, Augustina made her way from the courier station down to an apothecary that had caught her eye. She approached the building and checked for the tiny blackbird symbol etched in the doorframe before noting the name of the medicine shop: Cosgrove Herbs.

  Though she wore a thick cloak over her dress and a surcoat, she still shivered when the chilly autumn air blasted in her direction. She wrapped her arms around herself and entered the shop, quickly closing the front door to shut out the icy temperature and the clamor of voices in the streets.

  The apothecary was small, but warm. Wood burned on a hearth in one of the corners, and the walls were lined with shelves of jars and small cases. A small chair sat in one of the corners, and a large fur rug decorated the otherwise plain floor. Behind the counter stood an old woman who looked about sixty. Her gray hair was pulled back and a dark blue dress adorned her frail figure.

  “Excuse me, are you the proprietor of this shop?” Augustina walked over to the hearth and warmed her hands.

  The old woman put away the scroll she was reading and looked up. “Yes, I am. My name is Eliathe, how can I help you?”

  “I was interested in seeing your special items.”

  Eliathe’s black eyes narrowed. “My special items? If you mean the whiteflower salve and the mending tonics, then I’ll have you know that I don’t sell them to young women off the street. They are for medics only.”

  Pulling back the hood of her cloak and letting her red curls spill forth, Augustina retorted, “Actually, I meant your other special items.”

  The old woman, though small and slim, stood inches higher in her indignation. “Those are my special items. What kind of place do you think this is, girl?”

  “Isn’t that a blackbird symbol carved in your door frame?”

  “I don’t know…I never noticed. I suppose whoever owned this shop last was the one who made that.”

  “If you think I’m a spy for the King’s Guard or a witch-hunter, rest assured that I am neither.”

  “Why would I be concerned about that? Just because I’m a medicine woman—”

  “What is it that you truly sell, Eliathe? When the other shops close and certain clients wait in the back alley to buy and exchange. What is it that you give them?”

  “Get out of here!”

  “Answer me, old woman.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Someone who won’t say a word about you if you cooperate.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I already told you.” Augustina approached the counter rested her hands on its surface.

  “Well I don’t have much today, but I can show you what I have in the back room.”

  “Very well then.” She walked around the counter and followed the old woman down the hallway and into the storage room.

  Eliathe handed her a lit candle and stepped onto a stool so she could reach for a large crate sitting on one of the higher shelves. When she brought down the crate, she let it drop near Augustina’s feet. As she wiped the dust from her hands with a nearby cloth, Eliathe motioned for Augustina to open the crate.

  She rummaged through the crate’s contents. There were potions made from the Letha flower, a few spell scrolls for curses, and other useless items Augustina couldn’t use.

  “Is this all you have?” she asked, exasperated.

  “What were you looking for?” Eliathe shot back, still eyeing her with that hawk-like gaze.

  “I’m not interested in potions or trinkets,” Augustina said. “I want scrolls.”

  “There are some in that box.”

  “If I wanted to harm or kill someone, I wouldn’t need those stupid things. I can do magic on my own.”

  “Then what kind of scrolls are you looking for?”

  “Arcane ones. I am already advanced in my training, and I wish to study what has been lost.”

  Eliathe grunted. “Advanced you say? You’re so advanced that you’re threatening an old woman and rummaging through her crates?”

  “Watch your tongue, Eliathe. I am not to be trifled with.” Augustina uncloaked herself and let the scent of her power fill the room. She was nowhere near as powerful as Mylen, but she knew that she was powerful enough to frighten this old hag witless.

  Eliathe nearly fell off her stool and held onto the shelf for support. “I apologize, Miss. Please, allow me to help you any way that I can.”

  “I’ve been to three other apothecaries besides yours. Are there any others I can visit?”

  Eliathe descended from the stool and regained her composure. “Yes, and I think it’s one that might have the kind of things you’re looking for. It’s a small medicine shop right outside the city on the Westside. An acquaintance of mine, Hanwel, works there. He’s a collector of spell scrolls, and old documents and maps.”

  “Interesting,” Augustina said.

  “But he doesn’t sell them—he just collects them.”

  “Well, perhaps I can convince him if he has what I want. Send a letter to him letting him know I will visit within the week.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Witho
ut another word, Augustina turned and exited the storage room. On her way out of the apothecary, she wondered how she would be able to visit Hanwel’s shop if Mylen had no more letters for her to take down to the courier station. It had occurred to her to simply admit what she was up to and ask her mistress permission to continue her quest.

  She had learned that the other woman was nothing like her, and probably wouldn’t even covet the Black Rod. In truth, the woman puzzled her, because besides Lord Ronan, Augustina had never met a dark mage who truly believed in serving Dehawk as their god.

  But Mylen was a true believer if she ever saw one. The woman sincerely felt her sole mission was to return to Boathe and rebuild Temple Dehawk.

  “Let her have her Temple,” Augustina murmured to herself as she approached the small house she shared with Mylen. “Let her have it, and let me have what I want.”

  And she wanted no less than supreme power.

  The sweet aroma of herbs and spiced elixirs filled Hanwel’s medicine shop. Cases lined along the walls of the first floor were filled with the usual bottles, books, and pouches found in apothecaries, and a small staircase leading to a second floor stood to the far right of the entry room. Hanwel sat across from the staircase behind a large desk, where bills of sale were piled to one side. Trying to look as poised as he probably had in his youth, he greeted Augustina with a smile.

  “Welcome, miss. How may I be of service today? I have the finest Yew-flower available this week, just imported from the Rhinland Islands. Or, if you like, new remedies from afar, which are said to heal even the most painful headaches.”

  Augustina smiled as she approached the large desk. She had no doubt the old man had delivered this line many times over, but she was amused by the fresh way he gave it. “Hanwel, I am the woman your friend Eliathe spoke of. I am interested in purchasing some unique items.”