Irregular Magic

by T J Kelly

  She was gorgeous, her eyes as close to violet as I had ever seen, curly ebony hair cascading down her back. I could sense through our handshake that Tian wasn’t nearly as powerful as Reg, which explained why she wasn’t an agent. But there was something interesting about the way the element of her power source, Fire, interacted with the light inside her. I could almost see it glowing in her bright eyes. No wonder Reg was attracted to her. There was so little darkness, it was hard to believe she was real.

  My aunt introduced me to the final two men in the room. They were younger, probably in their early twenties. One had dark hair, and the other light, but they were the same height and looked similar enough I could tell they were brothers.

  “This is Seth and Harris,” Peony said. Seth was the brother with dark hair and eyes. “They’re from the Andersson clan.”

  Ah. That would explain it. The Anderssons took after the Karls or the Nils, the two major families who merged back in the 1200s to form a new clan. Every generation had an even number of children and they were split into groups that looked like one original family or the other. I suspected there was some kind of spell behind that although why they would care how many offspring had light or dark hair was beyond me. The answer would be shrouded by confidential magic. Magicians loved their family secrets.

  Seth gave me a smoldering, mysterious gaze. That probably worked for him with most girls, but I thought he looked a little silly and I had a hard time not laughing. When I shook his hand, I could sense he used Fire and Air. He was only about a quarter dark, which was enough to keep him edgy yet render him trustworthy. He could have gotten just about any mainstream magician job, but there had to be more to him for my uncle recruit him. There was a steady hum of strong magic inside him, which could have been the reason, but knowing my uncle’s quirky nature, there was likely something else special about him.

  As I turned to shake hands with Harris, I heard Tian and Reg stifle a laugh. I glanced their way and caught Tian slipping a coin to her husband. I shot her a curious glance but Tian only winked, so I turned back and greeted Harris, the light-haired brother. His eyes were also lighter than Seth’s, a pale blue ringed with gray, and he seemed to think his innate charm was enough because there was no affectation of mystery or smoldering about him.

  Water and Earth elements ruled him although it was hard for me to read him at first because he pumped my hand up and down with such exuberance it made my teeth rattle. Finally, he settled down. Despite his difference in personality, Harris had the same amount of darkness in him as his brother.

  Reg handed Tian the same coin as I turned back to my aunt. Before I could ask what they were doing, Peony led us to the dining chamber where a massive spread lay on the sideboard. There was probably three times as much food as usual, and I wondered how many cooks worked at the castle. I had only met two, and they were a productive and hard-working couple. But even magicians couldn’t pull off something like that without a small army to help.

  Peter nudged my arm while we stood behind the guests as they filled their plates. I looked at him with my eyebrow raised in query.

  “Don’t do it,” he whispered.

  “Do what?” I had no clue what he was referring to.

  “Quit acting innocent with me. I’ve seen your table manners. You know I meant ‘don’t swipe anyone’s dessert.’ Or other tricks.”

  Oh. That. “Hey now,” I said, a little hurt. “You don’t think I’m a total barbarian, do you? I can behave. I’d never do that.” I let out a huff, honesty overtaking me. “Until I got to know them better.”

  Peter laughed. I gave him a wink, and since we were at the end of the buffet by that time and nobody was looking, I swiped his caramel tart. Just on principle.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Wobbly Air Net

  The next week passed in a blur of combat training, studying, and getting to know the visiting agents. I avoided all mention of Chas, which helped. But at night, thoughts of him far away in the clutches of his father, made it difficult to enjoy my summer entirely. If only I could see him, or talk to him. Make sure he was okay. Give him hope.

  I didn’t get to spend as much time with Reg and his wife Tian as I wanted, but we ate meals together, and I grew to love their humor. I also learned a little about how powerful magicians used their magic when Reg told me about how he created the Sand-stinger spell as promised.

  “It’s not just about wind and sand,” Reg explained. “You’ve got to keep the individual grains spinning and swirling, so they act like tiny razors. And remember if you draw them together, you turn them into a wall. I connect the spell to me so when I move my arm, the sandstorm mimics my gestures. I tighten my fist, the sand fuses, and boom. No enemy can stand against that kind of hit.”

  We were using the miniature battle ring inside the moon module. I mulled over Reg’s words. My trigger was to imagine something, and that made it happen. I still wore my silver star necklace, which was a charm against accidental use of magic and stifled the amount of power I could use while it hung around my neck. It scared me to take it off even though it felt like I was wearing a muzzle. Did I want to try the new spell without it? A shudder wracked my body. I left it on.

  My eyes remained closed as I turned my attention to the sand at my feet. The mound was made of tiny particles, but I imagined each one to be the size of a boulder, attached a thread of magic rooted in the Earth element, and then shrank them back down again. I was worried the grains might actually grow huge and crush Reg and me, but I guess my magic was getting used to my process. Or I was getting better at separating some thoughts from others.

  After I cemented the connections in my mind, I gave it a whirl.

  The sand spun around in a small circle in front of me, near the ground. I engaged a few more connections, and the tiny tornado doubled in size. Some sand brushed against my leg, and I pushed as best I could to move it away without shoving too hard and letting it go like I usually did with a spell. Holding onto magic too long drained a magician, but the neat thing about spinning bits of sand was that I used Earth and Air elements until it became self-sustaining.

  “Damn fine job!” Reg shouted above the sound of the tornado, which was already taller than he was. I stopped adding to its height and instead expanded its girth. I was sweating like crazy. Maintaining control and contact with that many moving objects made my brain hurt.

  But I loved it.

  “Run!” I yelled, laughing when Reg took off at top speed. Then I had a revelation about distance. If Reg ran fast enough and I lost sight of him, what good would the Sand-stinger do?

  But what if I attached it to him somehow?

  I didn’t have much time to think it over because he was almost to the ridge of trees lining the swampy area of the practice ring. I created an imaginary bubble out of solidified Air in my mind, leaving holes between the connections like it was a large net, then I compacted the sand particles. I didn’t want to suffocate Reg, I wanted to trap him and the sand together. Once it was done, I shoved the Sand-stinger into the Air sphere, forged a thread of brown and blue transparent aura light, and then basically lassoed it around Reg.

  The sand followed him as I released my connection. The only tie to me that remained was the usual trace magic left behind, showing which spell was used and the nature of the magician who cast it.

  Reg grunted. I ran in the direction where he had disappeared, climbing a little hill. There he was, surrounded by the Sand-stinger, being shredded by the tiny razors of spinning sand crystals.

  Or, he would have been, if he didn’t have his shield up. He proved he was definitely an Irregular when I saw that he was laughing and shouting with glee at the spell I had just worked. Normal magicians never took delight in the odd twists of spells. They were too conservative.

  And maybe scared.

  I felt a give in Reg’s shield spell. I was keeping an eye out for that because my magic was stronger than his. Once his shield faltered, I essentially popped the bubble of Air
I made and the sand flew everywhere as it dissipated.

  Just because I was a tidy person - at least, when it came to magic - I swooped up all the sand and returned it to the mound it had formed before we started.

  “You did it!” Reg shouted triumphantly as he ran to my side. “I can’t believe you kept it together like that, especially once I was out of sight. You’ve got to tell me how you made that Air bubble that trapped the sand but didn’t snuff me out. We could use this spell as a restraint.”

  “Sure,” I said with a sudden attack of shyness. I had never worked with other magicians the way the other kids did. Most of them connected to at least part of their magic earlier than seventeen. But even when they didn’t, children of magicians still learned a lot about the practical side of their family’s business.

  My parents had been so obsessed with finding a way for me to tap into my magic we never had time. Working on spells, and succeeding, was new and awkward.

  “Come on,” Reg said. “Let’s sit down. See if you can walk me through it. I want to follow your magic.”

  Reg and I walked to a low wall made of cinder blocks, sitting near enough to grasp hands. The best way to generate a magical connection with another magician was to hold on to them.

  I concentrated on our connection and pulled Reg’s magic as close to mine as I could. It felt a lot like when I used to play with my birthday balloons. I would try to bring my hands together while the balloon was between them without popping it. If I was careful, I could get my fingers to touch before the air pressure inside shoved my hands back apart.

  It was wobbly, but I maintained the contact with Reg, who was helping from his side. Once our connection was stable, I formed another Air bubble.

  “Ah," Reg said. "It’s a net instead of a solid sphere. Interesting. We’ve always used a fishbowl shape with a lid we occasionally open so our enemies can breathe, but their spells can’t break through. The net you made rebounds magic with the aura spreading between the strands of Air. It seems so simple, but none of us thought of it before. This will be more secure, and we won’t have to assign an agent to monitor their breathing.”

  My own breath came out with a whoosh of relief. I dropped our connection at the same time I let the bubble collapse. It was like juggling three live fish that were trying to squirm out of my hands and back into the water. I could manage, but it was messy. And tiring.

  The two of us stood and I giggled when Reg gave me a fist-bump. He waggled his fingers, setting off little starbursts of magical light when he did it. I probably would have thought he was the coolest guy ever when I was seven.

  Who was I kidding? I thought he was pretty cool at seventeen.

  “I’m starving,” I said, ready to end the practice session. “Let’s see if there's any food set out for tea.”

  We strolled through the castle together and into the kitchen, which had the closest sink. We both washed our hands and were chatting when Peter came in.

  “What are you guys up to?” he asked. He smiled, and I could feel the usual warmth his Light brought into the room.

  “Inventing new ways to torture and imprison our enemies,” Reg said. It sounded like he was joking, but he was telling the truth. Irregulars were a tough bunch, and humor kept us from getting overwhelmed by the job. At least, that’s what my uncle told me. And I believed it. Even practicing to be an agent was stressful.

  “Awesome,” Peter said. He handed me a towel so I could dry my hands. “You think you can show me that one?”

  “Yes. You use Air, too. Who knew that element would turn out to be useful that way?” I asked.

  “Right? I always wondered if I should have tried to bring Fire over with me instead.”

  Most magicians spent a lot of time wondering if they messed things up because they were so young when they set their magic at ascension. There wasn’t anything we could do about how much light and dark we had within us once the Ascension Ceremony took place, and it was no use trying to delay to change the balance. The ceremony had to be performed as soon as possible after the Magician reached adulthood and connected to their magic. If we didn’t do it, sometimes the magic went wild, and it would eventually drive us insane. Which occasionally happened.

  I shoved that terrifying thought aside. The little spark of an idea about developing elemental magic after the ascension was pushed away too. At least for the moment.

  “Well, once we’ve shown the right people, a new crop of magicians may want to explore Air again,” Reg said. They had ignored that element for generations. Many magicians never bothered to develop it because it wasn’t as fancy as Fire. I wondered why Peter chose Air. Maybe because he didn't care about flash and glitter. Besides, he would never have used Fire no matter what regrets he said he had. Fire killed his parents, and he witnessed it. Nobody would ascend with an element like that even if it were standard for his family bloodline.

  We left the kitchen and headed into the study. Aunt Peony told us earlier that she was going to go old school on tea service, and sure enough, when we entered the room, there was a rickety little tea cart with a fancy porcelain teapot and teacups. Fortunately, she also set out tons of food on a couple of the side tables. The second I smelled the thick slices of medium rare roast beef and horseradish sauce, my mouth watered. I was starving.

  “How did it go?” Peony asked. I wandered over to where she sat and planted a kiss on her cheek. I was still getting used to casual displays of affection, but it was worth it when I saw how pleased she was.

  “Great,” Reg said. “I think we’ve got a new restraint spell worked out. Lia used it when she was practicing the Sand-stinger. We ought to run all our old standby spells by her. A fresh set of eyes could do a lot of good. Get us out of our creative rut.”

  Peter rested his hand on his chest, pretending to gasp in shock. “Lia,” he said. “Have you been turning the world upside down again?”

  “Something like that,” I answered breezily. “Now shut up and toss me that jar of marmalade. It’s three-citrus, and I bet it’ll taste great on my sandwich.”

  Peony stifled a moan of distress when Peter chucked the jam jar at my head, but I deflected it, and it landed gently - with the lid still firmly attached - on the table. I used a dainty silver spoon to slather some onto my beef sandwich, then snagged a few parsley sprigs from the garnish plate and popped those on there too.

  “Good Lord, child, what on earth is that?” Reg asked, sounding horrified.

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” Peter and I said in unison. We laughed, and I cut my huge sandwich into manageable triangles and gave one to Reg to try. He bravely took a bite and looked shocked. And pleased.

  “Ha,” I said. “Why doesn’t anyone believe in me? I rock.”

  Peter and Reg snorted, but I let that slide. Reg’s contented face and the speed his slice of sandwich disappeared was thanks enough.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I Pick Up a Few Tricks

  Reg and Tian bet on everything, continually passing a gold coin between them. When they tallied who won which bet, it always came out even. They never needed more than the one coin.

  They placed wagers on events as well as people. Like when I met Seth and Harris. Apparently, they had a bet going as to which of the brothers I would have a crush on. They passed the coin back and forth because they lost since I wasn’t interested in either of them. I was too hung up on Chas for that nonsense.

  Besides, I didn’t like triangles at all. At least, not love triangles. Sandwich triangles were an entirely different matter, of course.

  Tian came out to the beehive fields with me and my aunt to learn parts of the business. She and Reg weren’t members of what used to be considered the “ruling class,” so they didn’t have a large family corporation to work for. Most magicians were like that, actually, since families like mine had cornered the market a long time ago and shut them out. That left them to seek temporary contracts with the larger clans or compete for service jobs.

  Tian ha
d an affinity for Light and was good with her hands. She had the skills to help make wax candles and seals, lip balm and soaps, the trademark of Laurus Commodities. My aunt had offered her a job.

  “I wasn’t sure I would ever find the man meant for me,” Tian said as she unlatched one of the hives. “Reg walked into the tavern where I was working back in Ireland, and the second he caught my eye, it was all over. For him. It took another year and a lot of convincing before I realized he was the love of my life.” She was so sweet and practically glowed with goodness, but she was also stubborn.

  I giggled. It was funny to think about Reg as a young man chasing after Tian.

  “Sometimes it isn’t love at first sight,” Peony agreed. “Love can creep up on you. Before you know it, an anvil drops on your head, and you realize you’ve been in love for a long time.”

  I wondered if she was talking about herself. Our conversation made me realize I didn’t know as much about my aunt and uncle as I would like. We had been so busy training for the trials it was difficult to find a moment to sit and talk. The same thing happened with me and my parents, only we never had our chance to get closer after I finally tapped into my magic.

  “Well, Reg definitely had to whack me over the head good,” Tian said with a wry smile. “But I’ve never regretted leaving with him. My dad was disappointed I was departing the country, but he understood. The whole area had gone downhill and there wasn't much opportunity anymore.”

  Once the Center of the Universe had moved to San Francisco, the magicians followed, and a lot of small towns in the old countries died out. It made me sad, especially since we could transport ourselves instantaneously anywhere on the planet. Not everybody needed to relocate. But magicians were such power junkies. Status meant everything to some people. Magical high society moved when the Center shifted.

  Big magic corporations like mine had to be close to both the center of the universe and government, so we didn’t have a choice. My father, Donovan Rector, created a satellite business when we moved so it wouldn’t decimate the villages we left behind. They were doing well, the surrounding area a bustling, healthy economy. I felt a surge of pride. He had done a good thing.