by J. Elle
The heat on my neck rises.
Say something. Stop staring like an idiot.
“Everyone has some form of magic here.” He hesitates at that last part. “And not a single one of us has onyx.” He glances at Aasim and he nods. “Jelani, Ghizoni magic was birthed by your ancestors, passed down to their children and their children’s children, breathed into us—and only us—by the gods themselves.”
“But,” I start, “the Chancellor, he…”
“Those stones are a child’s toy compared to the power your ancestors could wield. A stolen child’s toy.”
“So… I don’t… wait… you mean…” Words are a jumbled mess in my head. “You’re saying all magic… the onyx that the Chancellor gifts everyone… the power that’s here on the island… it’s…”
Bati nods, handing me back my cuff.
No, it can’t be.
The chilling realization washes over me and I bar my mouth shut, as if my hands can hold in the truth and everything it means.
I never liked the Chancellor, but this? This!
“It’s not possible… he…” I stutter.
“Yes, Rue.” Aasim turns to me. “Magic was never the Chancellor’s to give.”
I meet his stare and finally understand the fire that burns there.
“It was ours.”
CHAPTER 25
Eleven Months Ago
THE HALLWAY IS BARREN by the time they call my name for Binding.
The revelry and thump of the drums outside have faded and only scraps of streamers and confetti remain. Sorting is done for everyone, and except for me, Binding is done too. Each person before me, including Bri, disappeared behind the chrome swinging doors and came out sniffly with bandaged wrists.
“Come,” a gruff voice says. The lady who called everyone else must be gone, because the man standing at the door is only vaguely familiar. His hair is cut low, very neat. He has a shadow of a beard on his face, white like his low top. And a mean gash beneath his eye. He doesn’t wear a lab coat like she did or even have a clipboard.
I don’t like this. “Where’s the nurse lady?”
He turns his back without an answer. I’m here, it’s finally my turn. I’ve been waiting all day for this. I need to just go through with it. Get it over with. Push comes to shove, I can throw some hands if I need to. He look old as hell.
I follow him from a distance. The hallway through the silver doors reminds me of the clinic Moms used to take me to. Sterile rooms, like patient rooms without windows, line both sides of the lengthy corridor. Except here there are no nurses, doctors, or people moving from room to room. This hallway is as silent as it is stark white.
The only bit of color is a painting of the Chancellor’s head on display at the end of the hallway. We hang a left. Then a right and two more lefts. I keep track. Just in case.
The room we slip into is like the others except cabinets line one wall and there’s a black door at the back of the room.
“Sit,” my escort says, pointing at a metal table in the center of the room.
I swallow the lump in my throat and take a seat. The metal chills my legs, even through my jeans, and I hug around myself. “So you doing this or what?”
He doesn’t laugh at my obvious attempt at sarcasm or even comment. Instead, he grimaces and posts up on the wall in the farthest corner of the room. His gaze never leaves me and I feel icky. Ten showers with screaming hot water are in my near future.
The door clicks open. “Oh, there you guys are.” A dusty brown-haired man sticks out his hand. “I’m Twan, the tech that’ll be doing your binding attachment today.”
“Uhm, okay,” I shake the tip of his hand.
“So first I need you to take off this outer robe you have.” He pinches my hoodie.
“I’m not taking off my hoodie.” I roll up my sleeves. “This will have to work.”
He smiles apologetically. “O… of course, sorry. I just would hate to get any blood or anything on it.”
Blood? What am I in for? “I’m good. Go ahead.”
“I’ll need you to lie back and uh, sir…” he turns to the man on the wall. “You said the Chan—”
“All ready to begin then?” The Chancellor’s voice booms as he enters the room. “Rue Jelani Akintola, daughter of Aasim Amare Akintola.” His voice is more lively than his expression, none of its warmth quite meeting his eyes. “General, good afternoon,” he says, and the man on the wall—apparently a General—softens.
“Afternoon, sir.”
“Now if you’ll lie down.” The tech pulls on gloves and I ease back onto my elbows. I don’t like this. Lying down in here with all the strange vibes in this place. Where’s Aasim? Stupid question. Why do I even care?
“Ah, ah, not so fast,” the Chancellor says. “This one’s going to stand first.”
The tech’s brows meet. “Stand, sir, but…”
“You heard the Chancellor,” the General spits. “Do as you’re told.” He looks to me. “Stand, girl.”
“Rue. I don’t answer to girl.”
“Rue, if you would?” the Chancellor cuts in, gesturing for me to stand in front of him. I glance at the exit, to keep it in my sights. Just in case.
Once I’m in front of the Chancellor I can see him more properly. He’s much older than his portrait lets on. Some of his hairs are pale gray and his eyes are a frigid shade of blue.
“The stones,” he says. The tech holds two black circles about the size of a half dollar.
“Wh-what are those?” I ask.
“Just rocks, well stones, really,” Tech says. “Onyx mined from Yiyo. It’s a great conduit for the magic. It binds really well to it, we’ve found. We tried obsidian and it was downright awful. I mean, you couldn’t even—”
The Chancellor clears his throat.
“Sorry, sir.” Tech hands him the onyx.
I swallow. This shit is gonna hurt. I know for a fact I heard them girls screaming.
The Chancellor holds the balls of onyx in one hand and shoots a stream of magic like a fuzzy strand of electricity from his fingertip. The stones glow orange and it’s only then I notice the Chancellor’s gaze isn’t on what he’s doing.
It’s on me.
Tech stands next to me as the Chancellor fills the stones with remnants of his magic. I don’t know this tech guy, but he’s the only one in this room who hasn’t looked at me like they despise me. That alone makes his presence comforting.
The stones’ brilliance grows brighter and brighter and with each lumen, the General is more visibly irritated.
“Sir,” he says, “forgive me but this is a mistake. I—”
The Chancellor’s eye twitches. “General.”
He snaps his mouth shut.
Giving the half-human who isn’t Ghizoni magic? Yeah, I bet plenty of folks here wouldn’t be a fan of this, actually. Their problem. Not mine.
“About ready,” the Chancellor says. “Tech?”
Tech moves into place like he’s done this a hundred times. His slips protective frames over his eyes and the Chancellor drops the stones in his hands, steam rising from them.
“This part is gonna sting a bit.” Tech meets my gaze. “But it’ll cool down quickly.”
A response sticks in my throat and all I can manage is another swallow.
“First, repeat after me.” The Chancellor takes my hands and everyone’s heads turn his way. In expectation or confusion, I’m not sure.
“With this Bind, I eternally vow,” he says.
I look to tech and he shrugs, nodding at me. “W-with this Bind, I eternally vow.”
“To mind my work with fervor and allegiance.”
“T-to mind my work with fervor and allegiance.”
“And whatever cause thine Wisest might deem.”
I don’t even know this man?! “I…” Tech nods for me to go on. “A-and whatever cause thine Wisest might deem,” I say, shoving the words between my teeth.
“To uphold the pillars upon
which we’ve been built.”
“To uphold the pillars upon which we’ve been built.”
“Benevolence. Generosity is quite important here.”
“Benevolence,” I say.
“Duty. We Ghizoni do what’s required of us.” He levels his gaze at me. “Whatever is required… for the good of Ghizon.”
I nod. “D-duty.”
“And fidelity.” He lifts his chin, eyes glaring down at me. “And we are unyieldingly… loyal.”
“F-fidelity.”
He studies me for a moment. “Tech, you may initiate the bond.”
The next few minutes are a haze of agony. One minute I’m sitting while Tech’s holding the hot stones to the insides of my wrists, apologizing every few seconds. And the next minute my insides are a crescendo of sharp pangs.
“AH!” My skin screams like it’s being fried in hot grease. Everything’s black, there’s so much pain I can’t see. “Make it stop!”
“Almost, Rue. Hang in there.” Tech presses harder and the skin underneath splits open. I gasp and brace for the pain of my wrists splitting open, but it never comes. A swell of cool seeps into my veins, winding its way through me like it’s looking, searching for something. Within seconds, the magic douses every simmering part of me like sand tossed on a fire.
I blink the world back into focus and sit up straighter.
I don’t know if my skin feels better or if I’m just numb. But the burning has stopped, and my wrists are sore but normal. Round stones sit fused to the insides of my wrists like little half moons. The edges around the onyx where my skin meets the stones are swollen and puckered like stitches that’ve come out too soon. I rub a thumb across one but it doesn’t hurt. Thank goodness.
Tech offers me a hand to steady myself, but I don’t need it so I don’t take it. On my feet, everyone’s staring at me, their expressions haunted with disbelief.
“What?” I ask.
“Y-your bandages… I-I… y-you…” Tech points at my wrists, his arms full of bandages I apparently don’t need. “Th-there’s no blood.”
The puckering that was just there is gone, and smooth skin meets the onyx. Wow, he wasn’t kidding.
“I don’t… it’s not even irritated.” He stares half flabbergasted, half intrigued. “I’ve never seen skin take to magic so quickly.”
The Chancellor storms out.
What’s his problem?
“H-how do you feel?” Tech asks. The General rubs his thin layer of beard, studying me. How do I feel? I can feel a hum of the magic nestled inside me comfortably, like it’s sitting there waiting… listening… ready. I crack my neck.
“Fine,” I say. “Better than I have in a while actually. Thanks.” I pat Tech on the shoulder and see myself out.
* * *
It’s been a couple of weeks since the Chancellor affixed onyx to my wrists, and between getting moved into Bri’s dorm, learning the ropes here—basic stuff, like where to eat, finding a place to shower—I’m just now picking up my books. My arms are heavy like I’m carrying a pile of bricks as I push open my room door.
“That took foreeever, geez,” Bri says, huddled over a book snuggled in a chair. The space isn’t huge, with two beds and a small table in the middle, but she has a dedicated chair in a corner that’s for her studying. Which basically means she lives in it. “What took so long?”
“Long line. Guess everyone waited until the last minute to get their texts.”
“Not everyone,” she says, hopping up to study my stack of titles.
Of course. Bri’s apparently been checking out how-to-textbooks from a local bookshop since she was old enough to read. I empty my hands on the bed. My arm muscles thank me, and light from the tiny window in our room catches my stones. They’ve been almost unnoticeable these last couple weeks, just ornaments occasionally warming time to time.
“So…” The onyx glistens like a bubble of blackness. “How do these things even work?”
“It’s like invisible momentum, an energy that you can use to move things. It can’t be made or snuffed out. Just transferred or change form.”
She’s gotta see the confusion on my face.
“Just focus on the stone in your wrists and point where you want it to go.”
“Focus and point?”
“Focus and point,” she says. “Okay, well, it’s more complicated than that if you want to distort or bewitch something, conjure fire, that sort of thing. But just moving something around? Focus and point.”
Focus and point. I think I can do that.
She examines my arms.
“Ow, it actually has been sore the last few days”
“Sorry! It should wear off soon. Sucking on some meekle can help.”
“Ugh, no thanks.” I don’t know what the heck that is. Trying weird food is more than I have in me today. I’ve been sticking to the two dishes I halfway recognize: a potato looking thing stuffed with what I keep telling myself is cheese, and a dark meat that looks like fish but has a Mongolian beef chewiness to it. Bri tried to explain what meat it is, but I really just need to live in my taste bud oblivion, right now.
Bri shrugs. “Probably smart. Last time I tasted that I felt loopy for, like, a week. Though, I think that might have been the point.” She considers the thought a moment, then moves on, plopping down on her bed. “Well come on, let’s see what you can do!” Her book’s still open.
Advanced Spells
Now with a Bonus Enunciation Guide
“Bri, I’m barely through the door.” I close it at my back. “And I haven’t even cracked open any of my books. Like, damn, gimme a minute.” I do wanna see if I can actually do something. See what all this pomp and circumstance around being Bound is.
She rolls her eyes deep in her head and I laugh. I pull out my spell book from the bag on my back. Bri’s back in her chair in the zone, three books open and deep lines dug into her forehead.
The writing on the page is painfully small. I squint. Moms always said I needed glasses. But glasses ain’t cheap and squinting is free.
Magic wielders can usually transfer magic fairly easily with only a basic understanding of the skill, because a lot of energy transference is felt. A humming in your veins, a warming of your wrists, you can feel the magic gathering and point it with your hands where you want it to go, silently. Though, depending on the strength and relative exhaustion of a person’s magic, a spell may be used to increase chance of success. (If the spell cast doesn’t respond, a cool-down period of three to five seconds may be needed.)
See Advanced Magic Transference Appendix A.
I focus and my wrists warm. A heaviness sets on them like my onyx has turned to lead.
And point.
The stack of books on the table tumbles off the side into a pile on the floor.
“You did it!” Bri shouts.
I didn’t even know she was paying attention anymore. That’s much simpler than I thought it’d be.
“Rue, that’s great.”
“Thanks.” I glance at the text open on my lap. “What about, like, spells?”
“That’s way more difficult, don’t even worry about that now.” She flaps a hand in the air. “It’s all about enunciation and timing, commanding your magic at its strongest point as it wells up inside you.”
Commanding at its strongest point. “Command, like, say?”
“Yeah, aloud. It’s super prickly though and complex. Takes lots of practice. I’ve been studying spells for years just to get ahead, and I can’t get the stupid things to work. But I’m hoping to have a breakthrough now that I’m officially in training.”
I don’t know if she’s talking to herself or me. Bri does that, gets off on brainiac tangents. I slide a finger down my spell-casting page. The cover reads Beginner and I double take at Bri’s. Definitely different.
Magic can also transfer from you to an object you’d like to control. That’s how magicked objects work on their own, such as dishes self-washing. Transferring
magic is a temporary spell that transfers to the object for a time. Some spells will need maintenance after a while. Self-washing dishes, for example, after several months, may not wash as well, or the water may not get as sudsy. This means the spell is weakening and could use a little boost. A simple refresh spell will do the trick.
NOTE: This is temporary magic, different from imbuing. [See restrictions on imbuing in the next chapter.]
I turn the page. Why would imbuing or whatever it’s called specifically be restricted?
RESTRICTION: Imbuing, specifically depositing or storing one’s magic into inanimate objects without express written consent from the Chancellor, is strictly prohibited. To inquire if an object may be imbued, complete Form IXII on page 793 of this manual. Allow eight to twelve weeks for processing.
I turn a few more pages to a picture of a man with a prominent nose and a warm smile. “Where did all this knowledge about magic come from?”
“Right? It’s so interesting discovering new ways the magic works. Research is really important to the Chancellor,” Bri says. “But it’s a Dwegini duty, so…”
Hmm. Interesting. I turn the page to a section titled “Lead Researchers” and scan.
Mr. Jon’ye, after which the Jon’ye Lo’Quiim Award is named, is heralded as the greatest mind in Magical Molecular Anatomy since Ghizon’s colonization. His discovery of how to alter the physical manifestation of magic into fire and electrically charged energy, like man-made lightening, is the single greatest advancement of our time and an invaluable asset to Ghizoni law enforcement.
Thanks to Jon’ye, the “feey’l” spell can conjure spheres of tangible energy or give your fingertips flames—a great convenience for practical tasks such as cooking, space heating, seasonal decor; and even more broad benefits such as self-defense, late night travel, and illuminating mass spaces.
Okay Mr. Jon’ye, let’s see. I bite my tongue from sheer nervousness.