And it was too warm.
She forced herself upright to sit back on her heels. Scraping the snow from her eyes, her vision cleared enough to see where she was.
Maris.
All around her were the spires of the capitol, pointing accusatory fingers at the stars for daring to lie beyond their power. The cobblestones, the bridges, the flats, all hunched and bent from bearing the weight of the eyes looking down from the spires. The laughter of the river slithering through the city, in no hurry to find the sea.
It was dark, where was she? Why?
Laughter.
Her ears twitched at the sound. It wasn't the water anymore.
All around her was laughter. Girls' laughter.
Tearful, side-splitting laugher. Pointing, tears streaming down faces.
From the walls past the door, through the open window.
No.
It didn't matter how or why anymore, she couldn't be here again.
A breeze blew in with the laughter, over her bare skin. Her arms, her back, her legs.
"You thought I meant it?"
This isn't real. This isn't happening.
"The look on her face! She had no idea!"
Wake up, Vimika!
Cold, hard impacts pelted her, the soft thump of coins raining on the bed. The sound of her clothes being passed around, more laugher. Fabric fluttering out the window and a soft splash into moving water.
"Good thing you don't have much to cover up!"
With a scream of rage as much as at herself as anyone, Vimika shot to her feet and spun to face her tormenters, her robes billowing out around her. But when she forced her eyes open she was in the forest again.
"You stupid dupe," Vimika said. Another Vimika, standing a few yards away. Stark naked, the way she had been that night, her entire body mottled red with shame. "You didn't even question it. Like a dumb puppy, you just did what she said. How good did that reward taste, dummy?"
"Shut up," Vimika said.
"You haven't been able to make me in three years, why should I start now?" Not-Vimika said.
"You won't let me!" Vimika shouted.
"Of course not. You'll just get hurt again if you forget."
"You're not real," Vimika said.
"Aren't I?"
Power surged through Vimika, a bolt of arcane fire snapping at her fingertips. But as she raised her hand to loose it, Not-Vimika evaporated in a cloud of knowing, satisfied laughter.
~
The only way Vimika knew which way to go next was by where she hadn't yet. Her footprints were everywhere (whether she'd made them or not), along with kneeprints and handprints, the little snow that had reached the ground mashed into a brownish slurry. Thankfully there was no sign of Not-Vimika, but since Vimika had no idea where she'd come from, it couldn't be said for certain that that was a permanent state of affairs.
At least she could hear again.
Granted, all there was to hear was panicked breathing, but she was, for the moment, alone. All that did, however, was give her mind the opportunity to rampantly speculate about what has just happened.
Illusion magic was hard under the best circumstances. If there was one thing that people were universally good at, it was picking out imperfections in other people. But Not-Vimika had been like looking into a mirror. Every line of her face had been replicated perfectly, the cascade of pink that spotted her chest when she flushed, every freckle, the scar on her side she never spoke of, even the little curl her lip took on when she was feeling particularly pleased with herself.
Her memories.
That was a level of magic unseen in centuries. People might be good at seeing imperfections in others, but no deception was more effective than self-deception. Tapping straight into someone's thoughts resulted in the most convincing illusions known to magic. But it was a skill thought lost forever, one of many that had been snuffed out in the Purges.
So why was it here in the woods in the middle of nowhere?
More importantly, who was here in the woods in the middle of nowhere?
Vimika looked ahead, deeper into the forest. Ahead was Oliver. She could still See him there, but only, she was coming to suspect, because she had scryed for him and knew what she was looking for. The illusions had taken her completely by surprise, which was most likely the point of them.
Hidden from her naked eye and her magic Eye, the entire forest was one giant trap, and she was standing in the middle of it. What else was in here? And why?
Had Oliver known about it? If he was indeed mechamagical, maybe it would give him some sort of magical sympathy that led him this way.
Or maybe he was made here, Vimika thought, shaking loose a shiver that rattled her from the top of her hat to her toes. Any wizard capable of illusions as strong as the ones she'd just endured would easily have been capable of mechamagery, if they weren't otherwise occupied being dead.
But if a few mechamagical animals had survived, then perhaps one or two of their creators might have, as well. There were stories of mages escaping justice, but always in fanciful (and impossible) ways like teleporting or on a pillar of fire, usually involving some amount of taunting and assurances about forthcoming revenge. The current state of wizard society was ample proof that those promises had gone unfulfilled.
Leontofen Stovkovr, Azrabaleth Kalinostrafal, Ikaliza Fantokiribas, they were notorious among wizards. Heroes to some, villains to the rest, the outstanding bits of unfinished business that made it impossible for people like Vimika to go outside without donning the hat and robes first. 200 years later, they had to all be dead, of course, but it was a lingering aftertaste that no amount of gargling with the freedom of living wizards could quite rinse out.
A mystery was already a dangerous proposition for a wizard, but multiple mysteries layered on top of one another could get them to do all manner of stupid things, like take another step forward into a place that had already made clear it didn't really get on with visitors very much.
Vimika was freezing, she hadn't eaten since her fish with Apricot, and she'd just been forced to remember something she'd spent quite a lot of money on alcohol trying to forget. All she had to do was turn around and go back to her cellar.
There were other ways to make all the money she needed in a single afternoon. She wouldn't at all dwell on just what was happening in this forest, what secrets it was hiding or why Oliver had run here in the first place. None of those were thoughts that would occupy the mind of a young, lonely wizard trying to find any excuse at all to think about something other than where she was.
No, drinking herself into an early grave was a much better use of her time.
So.
Onward into the unknown, or back into the very well known? The well-trod, the featureless blank plain of the future she'd settled on largely for lack of a better idea.
"Yes, hide. Like you always do," said Not-Vimika from behind.
"No thanks to you," Vimika replied. She turned to see herself standing amidst the the swirling cyclone of footprints she'd made when she'd first been disoriented. Not-Vimika was clothed this time, exactly the same way Vimika was, a perfect mirror image.
"I am you. So..."
"Shut up. So shut up. That's what comes next. Shut. Up."
"You don't even know who I am," Not-Vimika said with a little pout. "Not really."
"I know only too well who you are, which is why I told you to shut your mouth," Vimika snarled.
"Or what?"
"I'll ignore you. What you like best, isn't it?"
Not-Vimika laughed into her sleeve, then looked down it in puzzlement, as if she'd never seen it before. "If only you could. Your tab at Wilim's is proof enough."
"I don't run a tab. It's why he tolerates me."
"That was more a figure of speech. A little more elegant than saying 'the amount of money you've thrown down your gullet in that bar you live under.' Or maybe that would have gotten the point across better after all. Your mind is a confusing pla
ce," Not-Vimika said.
"Well aware of that, thank you. Why are you here, and who are you? Really?"
"I'm not telling and there's nothing you can do to make me," Not-Vimika said.
"You sound like a child."
"And since I'm a figment of your imagination, who's fault is that?"
Vimika narrowed her eyes and tried to Look through the maddening phantom wearing her face, but it was perfect. Almost. It was too weak in animata, but that kind of energy was difficult to fake. Magic had its own truth, you could only bend a lie so far. But in every other respect, Not-Vimika looked as solid as Vimika's own reflection, and almost as sad. "You're an illusion. A powerful one, but just an illusion."
"Am I? Maybe this is all in your head. Maybe this is a dream. Ground's a little soft, isn't it?"
In an eye blink,Vimika's footing collapsed beneath her and she spiralled down into the freezing mud. The world around spun and swam, twisting into shapes and patterns she had no words for. The trees soared into the sky at the same time they bent low over her like a cage, pine needles becoming like daggers and teeth, snow like haze, the sun too bright to stand at the same time she was plunged into darkness.
"Go home," said a voice from the shadows.
But not shadows of light. Of time.
"I have no use for you anymore, witch."
Screwing her eyes shut so tightly it hurt, Vimika shook her head violently. "No. No! Shut up! Leave me alone!"
"I will, if you'd get out of my house."
The air was warm again, heavy with perfume and incense. The ground was no longer mud and snow, but a plush rug, one that Vimika had fallen to her knees upon before. Stars exploded in her vision as she doubled over on herself, her forehead smacking through the thick pile onto the hard wooden floor beneath. Her chest swelled against her arms as she held herself and sucked back the sobs she would not let come again.
"Get up Vimika, you're embarrassing yourself. And me, frankly."
A voice like honey. Sticky and sweet. Enticing, and inescapable if you got sucked in by it.
"You said you loved me," Vimika whimpered.
"I said a lot of things to get you to do as you were bid. A wizard should do as they're told, but you never would. Well, you won't be the last one I bed, and I doubt the next one will take nearly as much work for so little reward."
"You don't mean that," Vimika said.
Honey exploded into spun sugar, a full-throated laugh that left Vimika tangled in a web of tacky threads that only got stronger the more she flailed against them.
"Of course I do. I can afford someone better trained, you know. A good girl who doesn't ask questions. She'll work her magics and hurt the people who need hurting without talking back. She'll be seen and not heard. Warm my sheets at night, go back on her shelf during the day, and thank me for the privilege. Unlike you, you ungrateful, slit-eyed harlot. Now get out before I summon the Watch."
The world spun again, sucking the breath from Vimika's lungs and she found herself back in the forest on her side, her right cheek half-buried in slush. White clouds geysered from her lips, limning the scattered pine needles in white hairs of frost.
"I hate you," she whispered.
"I know," Not-Vimika replied. "So why don't you go back home and prove it? All that yummy brandy, the Soft Sea Gold you spared the other night just waiting. Then you can curl up and wish you were dead again. Or pretend you already are."
Vimika looked up at herself. "Is that what you want?"
"You're the one who fell for the 'I love you' trick twice, you tell me."
Sodden and freezing, Vimika forced herself back to her knees. Her right side was numb, her robe splattered with clots of sodden filth. The brim of her hat was crumpled and heavier on one side, covering an eye. "What are you hiding?" she asked.
"Nothing. Which is why I can be so honest with you," Not-Vimika replied with a maddening little rictus that might have been a grin.
With a grunt, Vimika managed to get one foot underneath her, sloshing freezing mud into her other leg. "Liar. You're saying those things for a reason. Making me re-live... that... for a reason. You want me to listen to you..."
"To yourself, you mean?"
"Shut up," Vimika seethed.
"So you've said."
Swaying and unsteady, Vimika managed to get to both feet. She looked again towards the unblemished ground, the path untaken. With a wrenching effort, she heaved herself forward without looking back.
"You aren't worthy of her!" Not-Vimika shouted.
Vimika didn't reply. Instead, not for the first time, she fled from herself.
Headlong into the unknown she ran, in the only direction she hadn't been. She didn't care what she would find anymore, because what was behind was worse. All thoughts of mechamagery and the danger presented by anyone who might still practice it went ignored. She could no longer feel her toes, but she counted it a blessing, since it might be a precursor to not being able to feel anything else.
It was a long, stumbling rush before she could bring herself to look up.
Ahead, the densely-packed trunks began to thin, standing aside to allow her a glimpse of a way out. Clear, unobstructed daylight beckoned, and some animal part of her instinctively pushed her harder, towards the safety of the sun.
She quickened her pace, but the clearer the goal became the brighter it got, to both her eyes and her magic senses. In moments the light between the trees went from potential sanctuary to the gaping maw of the very worst hell. Water fountained from her eyes and she threw her hand over her face, until even that wasn't enough to block the light. It went through her hand to stab directly into her brain, and she burst blindly from the trees into open air. Staggering forward a few steps, her toe caught the back of her heel and she pitched straight into the ground, her momentum rolling her into a sprawling heap.
Flat on her back, the entire world was painful, from outside and in. Every nerve was afire, and if her head split open it would come as a relief from the pressure building behind her eyes. She flailed against the assault, but there was no relief to be found.
Unwilling to risk any more surprises, Vimika's mind did the prudent thing and stopped accepting any input from the outside world.
Just for good measure, the inside followed swiftly behind.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE WORLD DIDN'T return so much as congeal. A thick, stifling thing that sat astride Vimika's senses like the corpse of a corpulent horse. Every ounce of pain in her body was restricted entirely to her head, which felt like it was about to burst as she coughed and wheezed against the remembered cold. But a few deep breaths told her she needn't have bothered; the only thing nipping at her nose now was the feeling rushing back into it. The air was warm and tasted of spring, which was pleasant, but completely wrong and therefore alarming.
None of that made any sense, but given the thunderstorm wracking the backs of her eyeballs, she was in no hurry for it to start. Yes, the ground she lay on was decidedly hard and flat, and yes the blanket was warm and oh-so soft, but those things made even less sense. Maybe if she passed out again it would all go away and she would wake up in a sodden, frozen heap like she'd expected to.
It wasn't the spicy, biting incense that kept her conscious. Nor was it the sensation of a breeze across the top of her hatless head.
No, it was the shadow that passed over her, and the humming that went with it.
Groaning, Vimika girded for another fight with herself. She had been a fool to think she could get away as easily as losing consciousness. Some refuge daylight had turned out to be.
"Oh! Ah, how do you do?" asked a woman's voice that was decidedly not Vimika's.
It was a voice she'd never heard before, one of dusk shaded in twilight velvet, with diction so crisp it could snap if used on a cold enough day.
"Ahem. How do you do?"
Such insistent politeness made Vimika brave cracking an eye open.
Standing over her less than an arm's length away was
absolutely not Vimika.
Long, pointed ears protruded from hair as black as midnight of such length to vanish out of Vimika's peripheral vision. The woman peered down with eyes nearly as dark, almost enough to hide the slits, but more than dark enough to reflect Vimika'a own gawping, fish-like face back at her.
"Vimika, isn't it? Oh, this is awkward. I'd rather hoped you would be sensible when you awoke. Perhaps the question wasn't quite in keeping with your current state. I'm not terribly good at improvising, you see, but I wanted to make sure to mind proper manners in any case. Judging by your expression, your experience may have affected your hearing as well. Oh... my, I hadn't planned for that eventuality. Hmm..."
The wizard had a moment's rumination before she bent over perfectly at the waist, putting her face only an inch or two away from Vimika's.
"HOW DO YOU DO? MY NAME IS AURELAI!"
A sound that loud from that close needed to be blinked away, and made Vimika afraid to breathe for fear of her lungs being collapsed if it happened again. Holding her breath however, left her light-headed and susceptible to stray thoughts such as 'this is the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.' More sober ones like 'she knows my name' went unheeded. 'This is all very strange' was deemed appropriate. Something about a bizarre flavor of charming was in there too somewhere, but Vimika needed to respond before any windows were blown out.
"Hello," she croaked, half in wonder and half in not knowing what else to do when confronted with something like this so soon after regaining a consciousness she wasn't entirely sure how she'd lost.
The wizard started in surprise before clapping her hands together. "Ah! You can hear! And still speak! Splendid."
Tendrils of black hair reached for Vimika as the wizard swept into a comically deep bow, hooking one ankle behind the other under a dress finer than any Vimika had ever seen on a wizard. A satin red the color of blood, trimmed with icy silver, it was of a style she'd never seen on a living person. Museums tended to frown on exhibits that could talk back.
Midnight Magic Page 5
