And they sure as heck shouldn’t attack my Rory for saving their people’s lives. I dug my fingernails into my palms.
Rory didn’t need me to defend him. He frowned at a wailing elf scientist who clutched the hand of a centaur who stood on three legs, resting an injured hock.
“You’re the damn team leader,” Nora swore. “You should have—”
He jerked his head around to meet her furious glare. “What? We should have warned them that using mid-level magic might make them prey for the grubs? Wasn’t that an obvious scientific deduction?”
Nora clacked her beak. “My people aren’t accustomed to fieldwork and danger. As team leader it was your role to guard them.”
“Which Nils did.”
And Rory had been at the secondary clearing in seconds. He’d captured the third and fourth grubs. Five grubs had attacked. “Nils killed one grub, and captured two. I captured two. Your scientists panicked and ran around like headless chickens, making our job harder. That was why I stayed silent rather than remind them of the exceedingly obvious fact that they were potential targets.”
He ticked off points on his fingers. “One, they should have worked it out for themselves. Two, they are no more important than me, and I played bait. If I’d asked them to do what came naturally,” he meant acting as bait, “they’d have panicked, and gee, three, that’s exactly what happened. That’s my point, Nora. If we have to fight these creatures, I’m damned if warriors are going to put themselves at risk by including undisciplined, panic-riddled scientists on the teams. Tonight was proof of the danger your people represent to themselves and to others. If I didn’t have the highest respect for Nils’s ability, I wouldn’t have risked him by allowing your team to remain after you took away the fiery bird.”
“Bat. Bathuma,” Nora muttered. The fight had gone out of her.
Around the clearing, the panic and self-pity of the scientists had changed to huddled shame.
Rory looked around. “It’s not your fault that you couldn’t cope with events. Everyone has different skills and experience. Most people freeze in the face of danger. You had to pay the price for me proving that this setup can’t be repeated.”
“We won’t need additional live captures,” Chad said over the audio.
Rory stared at the heavens as if he prayed for patience, but only for a second. He was still on guard duty. “Are you ready for four grubs at the bunker or should I kill a couple?”
“No!” Chad beat Nora to a response. “We have two empty cages at the entrance to the bunker. We’ll put two in one.”
Rory continued with his orders. “I’ll open the portal. Bring the cages through, while I carry ours to the bunker. I want a containment mesh around the corpse. You see to caging the captures, fast. Don’t take off their holding restraints until you’re in the bunker. Then they’re your problem. All of you here.” He had the scientists’ attention. “Wait till the cages arrive, then return to the bunker. Do not attempt to assist in the transfer of the grubs.”
“I can help,” Nora said.
Without acknowledging her, Rory opened the portal at the side of the clearing between the Faerene and the grubs. The cages came through, the abashed scientists returned to the bunker, Nora and the newly arrived scientists—just three of them—encaged the grubs and returned as well, and Rory threw through the remainder of their equipment before closing the portal.
He and Nils were alone on the slopes of Mount Redoubt. No other grubs had appeared. Nor did any wait at Rory’s original campsite. He collected his belongings. “Kitchen,” he said over his mike before switching it off.
Nils already had his pack on his back, and his sword in his hand. The two of them stepped through a small portal to the yard outside the magistrate hall’s kitchen.
I ran to meet them and collided with Rory.
He dropped everything to hold me tight. “Debrief in the morning,” he said to Nils.
“Glad you’re safe,” I added before Rory claimed my mouth and all of my attention.
The debriefing occurred at dawn. Like video conferencing in the pre-apocalyptic human world, the Faerene used slate technology to link participants. Piros, Quossa, and the Orc Champion, Geat, represented the Fae Council and joined us from Civitas. Nora and Chad spoke from the bunker for the scientists. Rory was involved as mission team leader, and Istvan had translocated back to the magistrate hall to be with us as we joined the meeting since Mount Redoubt was in his territory and because Rory was his head of the magisterial guard, but most of all because of me.
After the discovery of a fiery adult stage to the bathumas and the aggressive and growing number of grubs emerging, the bathumas had become a red level threat. More Faerene had died. Both adult and larval stage had been hunting at other volcanos and captured on monitoring equipment.
“We haven’t had much time to analyze the specimens,” Nora stated the obvious. She and Chad looked exhausted, but also crazily enraptured. Discovering a major new thaumivorous species was scientifically exciting.
It was also horrifying, not only for the threat the bathumas posed to magic users, but because it raised the question of what else Faerene monitoring of Earth may have missed. And that might be the deciding factor in activating the orb: were there other unknown magical threats on Earth?
“The adult bathuma finally fed. We tried a number of options, both living and dead, before it siphoned magic channeled through Chad,” Nora said.
I shuddered at the idea. The goblin scientist had fed this unknown creature his magic. What if it transferred something back to him, the way mosquitos spread disease?
Nora assured us that her team had monitored the siphoning scrupulously, that shields were involved, and that Chad had scanned clean.
“He should still go through decontamination,” Quossa said. “Now.”
It was an order, and since Quossa was the Fae Council member responsible for the bunkers and the science conducted inside them, Chad vanished obediently from camera view.
“Unnecessary,” Nora said tightly. In issuing the order, Quossa had challenged her judgement.
Quossa flicked her comment away with a twitch of his ears. “Continue your report.”
After a few seconds to collect her thoughts, and possibly to squash her emotions, Nora resumed. “The fact that the adult bathuma siphoned magic from Chad, a living magic user, raises a fascinating point, albeit one humans may find disconcerting. Did humans and bathumas evolve in concert? It could mean that humans are uniquely capable of channeling magic for others, and hence, that in slotting them into the role of familiar we were unconsciously meeting their needs.”
I wrinkled my nose. There’d been no meeting of our needs when the hundred human mages selected to participate in the inaugural human familiar trials, myself included, had been given the option of working toward the goal of vowing our magic to the service of a Faerene magician or being killed. The Faerene had been deadly afraid of uncontrolled human magic reopening the Rift.
“Conversely,” Nora said. “The opposite effect could be in action, and humans have defenses against their magic being siphoned, and those defenses are what kicked in and eroded their magic when they bonded with Faerene magicians. All except for Amy and Chen.”
Quossa interrupted. It seemed the rest of us were merely an audience to the pair’s interaction. “The question of human magic is relevant given Istvan’s presentation of what he believes to be a construct of ancient human magic, along with the strange theory that those humans renounced their magic.”
“The theory is credible,” Nora said. “You’ve studied the orb, Quossa.”
“Barely,” he snorted.
“More than I’ve had a chance to with you holding onto it.” Before he could object that she’d been otherwise occupied, Nora continued. “Evolution can be brutal. If the ancient humans’ magic was limited, or their understanding of it was, then their magical technology would be similarly limited. Consequently, when they hunted the bathumas in an at
tempt to defend themselves, the humans picked off the weakest ones.”
“Natural selection,” I muttered. “The strongest bathumas survived to reproduce, and the species outpaced my ancestors’ ability to defend against them.”
Nora tilted her head in a birdlike yet predatory gesture. “Leaving the humans of the time, the ones with magic, to conclude that their magic was too dangerous to use. The bathumas ate them if they employed it.”
Piros at last spoke. “The bathumas are a significant threat. I am in charge of assessing the nature and extent of that threat, and possible responses. I will draw on your team and scientists from other bunkers as well as actuaries and military advisers from the wider population. We must manage the direct threat that the bathumas pose, as well as the psychological and social impact of discovering them.”
Rory’s hand tightened around mine. Faced with the reality of the bathumas on Mount Redoubt, the scientists on Nora’s team had panicked. The general population would respond even worse. The citizens of Justice hadn’t seemed affected by the initial news of the bathumas’ existence, but then, we weren’t near a volcano.
Ultimately, the Fae Council might face the question of whether a newly discovered magical species had to be exterminated to save the Faerene. Humans had hunted a number of predatory species to extinction or near extinction. Fearsome animals like saber tooth cats and dire wolves hadn’t survived our hunting methods or competing for territory with us.
“I am in charge of analyzing the orb and presenting various scenarios to the Council, weighted for risk,” Quossa said. “Nora, you will work closely with me on the analysis. The bathumas are a threat, but one which we can address. The existence of an orb that is possibly linked to ancient human magic, and which, to further horrify our imaginations, might explain Earth’s perfectly stable magic flows as unnatural, takes top priority.”
Nora’s feathers rippled as she stretched and retucked her wings. “Understood.”
“I will join you at the bunker,” Quossa said. “Piros?”
The red dragon Fae Council member, and its spymaster grimaced. “The easiest part, first. Rory, can you draft a risk mitigation strategy for the bathumas? The bunker will forward you their findings and reports. Aggression, holding pattern, and retreat.”
“I don’t think we should risk aggression at all yet, not till we know more,” Rory responded.
Smoke puffed from Piros’s nostrils. “Sometimes the risk is people’s stupidity. Include it.”
“Yes, sir.”
I found his formal response cute. It managed to convey so much of his disapproval.
“Amy.”
There was nothing cute about Piros’s heavy tone.
Istvan swayed closer to me and I put my free hand against his shoulder. He and Rory were my rocks as Piros continued.
“The Fae Council exists as stewards for Earth. Our importance will fade as the Migration gives way to normal life. In this early stage of the Migration we are especially active. We expected social problems to pop up and unforeseen events, if not quite on the scale of humanity having renounced its magic millennia ago. Our role isn’t simply to manage Earth to protect the shield. We wield substantial power, but primarily we exist to carry the burden of momentous decisions and actions. Success or failure, there is trauma in being responsible for any big action. We take the blame on our shoulders.”
Piros inhaled noisily. “Ideally, if the orb created by humanity has to be activated, one of the Fae Council should do it. However, if that proves impossible or undesirable—for instance, if it might explode the orb—then Istvan volunteered himself and you, Amy, to activate the orb.”
“I offered,” I interjected.
Quossa couldn’t remain silent any longer. “It is more than we expected of a familiar, Amy. If you activate the orb, the decision alone, let alone what might happen, will have a personal and reputational impact for you.”
Rory freed himself of my clinging hand to wrap me up in a hug that kept me close to Istvan.
“If it has to be done, I’ll do it.” I was proud of how steady my voice sounded. Piros and Quossa’s seriousness freaked me, and the Orc Champion lurked silently in the background.
Piros spoke as gently as a gigantic dragon could. “Amy, we’re aware that you find the Council frightening and oppressive. We are whatever people need us to be. Collectively, we can bear the burden of shaping the world.”
“Saving it,” Istvan said, and his sympathy and pride in his friend showed through.
“Doing what must be done,” Piros said. “As you have offered to, Amy. So before this meeting ends, you need to know that if the conclusion of analyzing the orb and the bathumas is that the orb must be activated, and activated by a human, if the result of doing so is significant, then the Fae Council invites you to join us on the bench as a full member.”
Rory’s arms contracted tight around me.
Istvan’s tail hit my ankle, surely accidentally.
They were both shocked and worried.
I was staggered.
“Consider whether you would join us,” Piros said. “And, Istvan? Consider what it might mean for your familiar partnership.” The spymaster signed off abruptly, and the slate in Istvan’s office that showed the councilors’ feed went blank.
“I don’t know whether I need to sleep or whether I’m already asleep and dreaming,” Nora muttered. “I think I’ll get someone to pinch me. A human on the Fae Council.” Her feed also shut off.
Rory, Istvan and I stared at one another.
“Holy quacking ducks,” I swore in awed bemusement. “Fae Council?” I clicked my fingers, then put a finger to my nose and wriggled it, then tapped the heels of my shoes together before waving an imaginary wand. “I should practice my magic.”
I guess that to Rory, who wasn’t familiar with my pop culture magic references, I appeared to be having a fit. Or else he correctly diagnosed that I was overwhelmed to the point of being unable to function. He literally picked me up, and with a curt, “Later”, exited the office.
Chapter 14
Istvan considered Rory to be an excellent magician, and especially talented in battle magic. Typically, though, the werewolf pack leader hid his unrelenting, ruthless core that talent required. He exhibited a casual leadership style; laidback and good-humored. The events on Mount Redoubt and the Fae Council’s edict eroded his camouflage.
At the close of the slate conference, Rory carried Amy out of Istvan’s office, stating in no uncertain terms that she could practice her magic later. First, they would breakfast alone, in bed.
Istvan approved of Rory’s protectiveness regarding his mate. Amy had a tendency to take on the troubles of the world. She was too young, yet, to have learned to shield herself from the demands of others.
However, left behind in his office, Istvan felt an unaccustomed pang of loneliness. No one fussed over him. Clerks would be waiting to load more work on him, and he had to be back on circuit by half past nine. He was needed. But that was different to being wanted.
Which led to thoughts of Nora.
Amy had said that if he was in love with the golden griffin, he’d have taken her as a partner.
He ruffled his feathers. Amy assumed that he paid attention to his feelings, but emotions hadn’t mattered to him for centuries. “Would I recognize what being in love with someone meant?”
He cared for Amy’s well-being because he was oath bound to do so. She was his familiar and as vulnerable as a fledgling. However, he assumed that adults like Nora could look after themselves. So not fussing over her didn’t mean he didn’t care.
He preened his chest feathers.
Nora had looked ragged on the slate.
When Amy looked like that, Rory took her to bed.
A vision of his empty nest upstairs popped into Istvan’s mind. He spat out a feather. “Breakfast!” His introspection could be blamed on an empty stomach.
Despite the excellence of Peggy’s cooking, Istvan headed for Jus
tice’s docks rather than the kitchen. The barbeque stall there served grilled catfish with a secret mix of herbs and spices rubbed in.
“Morning, Istvan.”
The black griffin looked around and located Amy’s adopted brother Jarod balanced on a ladder. No, correction, on two ladders lashed together, one on top of the other. If Amy saw that, she’d have a conniption.
Jarod smiled as he waved a paintbrush. “Early start for you, too? I didn’t know you were home.”
At least down by the docks no one would mind the boy shouting at this early hour.
“Just getting breakfast,” Istvan said.
“If Peggy cooked for me, I’d eat at the hall every day.” Jarod returned his attention to the window frame he’d so precariously reached up two ladders. He brushed on vivid yellow paint.
Istvan laughed. “You have a point, but I’m after catfish. How is the family?”
Abruptly, the boy’s usual frivolity vanished. “Satisfied. Niamh used the word. She’s a smart cookie. That’s how we’re feeling, even Dad, who won’t admit it.” He dipped the paintbrush in the can. “We can see a future here that isn’t just surviving. Craig and I don’t feel trapped anymore.”
He fell silent, and they shared an unexpectedly emotional moment with him up the ladders and Istvan’s stomach grumbling for catfish.
“How’s Amy?” Jarod asked.
Istvan wondered how much her adopted brother knew about events.
“I couldn’t have sent Dad off,” Jarod continued. “But Sean sounds like he’s a turd.”
The colloquialism caught Istvan off-guard. He’d recognized early in their partnership how neglectful Amy’s parents had been in her raising. What little love and attention they’d spared for their daughter had been grudging and conditional. They had damaged her sense of self-worth, even if she managed to hide the worst of her insecurity. So he had to agree with Jarod’s terminology. Sean Carlton was a turd. “I think that Amy is happy with you, her family of choice. Her father can make the independent life he has pursued for her entire life in Baltimore, alone.”
First Magic Page 18
