Wounded Magic

by Megan Crewe

  And then she’d sold her loyalty to the examiners for reasons I didn’t know. She’d had inside information. Finn had blamed her for at least one of our teammates’ deaths. They’d seemed to reach some kind of understanding by the end of the Exam, but that didn’t mean I could trust her.

  A pang ran through my chest at the thought of Finn. He’d be burned out by now. How was he coping? I wasn’t even sure what country I was in, but it’d been a long flight. I felt the distance between us, an ocean and more of separation, like a scrape down the center of me.

  My parents were just as distant. I had no one nearby I really knew, other than the magic with its ever-present hum.

  A brawny man strode into the room with two more figures in tow. I tensed at the sight of the girl with the ragged brown hair. Just two days ago in the Exam, I’d watched her slam a hatchet into the back of a boy’s head. The wiry guy who walked in next to her I’d seen attack a teammate he’d been fighting beside a moment before. After that, the two of them had banded together with a couple of the other examinees to kill the rest of us. These two were the only ones from their group who’d made Champion.

  And now we were colleagues.

  The brawny man spun on his heel at the front of the room, facing us with a clap of his broad hands. A few flecks of gray shone in his tawny buzzcut, and a narrow scar below his right cheek pulled the corner of his mouth down in a perpetual grimace.

  “All right, Champions,” he said in a terse but resonant voice. “Come on over here, and we’ll get started.”

  We moved to form a semi-circle around him, the four of us who preferred not to murder people keeping a healthy distance from the other two Champions. The brawny guy took us all in.

  “I’m Mitchell Hamlin, and I’ll be overseeing your training here,” he said. “I’ve read all your files from the Exam and from your academies and tutorials before then. The one thing you all have in common is the strength of will to not just survive the Exam but come out on top. It’s because of that strength that you’re here today, about to take on one of the most important jobs in National Defense.”

  I hoped my expression wasn’t too skeptical. I’d gotten the impression that the Confed used the Champions for their special ops squads because we were the dregs of mage society—the old-magic kids who’d disappointed their families, the new-magic kids who’d never had much hope of getting recognized in the first place. People who could be whisked off across the ocean to fight the Confed’s most dangerous battles without anyone raising much of a stink.

  “Why lie about it, then?” Leonie asked, tossing back her burgundy dreadlocks. “Doesn’t anyone care that we went into the Exam because we wanted to go to the college, not become some kind of secret soldiers?”

  Hamlin gave her a stern look. “Our enemies have spies and hackers trying to uncover our weaknesses. The secrecy protects you and your families—and our operations here. If the enemies of the Confederation have their way, there won’t be any college for anyone to attend.”

  “So why don’t the people who got to go there defend it?” the wiry boy muttered.

  “You entered the Exam because you wanted to earn the right to keep your magic,” Hamlin said. “This is the final stage in that process. You’ll receive a thorough magical education, where you’ll learn techniques no one in the college even considers. You were given the choice to back out halfway through your Exam. You can still back out now.”

  “And be burned out,” the ragged-haired girl said flatly. Exactly. It wasn’t much of a choice when that was the alternative.

  Hamlin spread his hands. “Billions of Dulls manage to survive without magic. You can choose security, or you can fight back against the forces that would destroy our safety. It’s up to you.”

  Prisha shifted restlessly on her feet, but no one asked to leave. Hamlin nodded.

  “Make no mistake,” he said. “What I’m going to train you for is the most important work you could be doing. There are rogue mage groups throughout the world who are right now attempting to bring chaos and violence to our home. The governments of the countries where they operate rely on our robust magical coalition for support, and our service is a key component in maintaining positive relations between the Confederation and our own Dull government. Your squads will be taking on mage combatants that Dull soldiers can’t handle and regular National Defense forces don’t have the flexibility to effectively pursue.”

  He started to pace in front of us with measured strides. “The people you’ll be going up against spread lies and confusion. They kill innocents to advance their agenda of terror. In the Exam, the six of you were competing against each other. Now you need to band together against an even greater trial, where the stakes are life or death—not just for you, but for millions of others under threat. I expect to find you up to that challenge.”

  When he aimed his penetrating gaze at us again, the two Champions across from me visibly straightened their posture. I guessed that kind of rhetoric appealed to them—or they were just looking forward to fighting some more. But even Desmond had raised his chin, his eyes bright against his dark brown skin.

  Well, we all had to make the best of the situation we’d found ourselves in, didn’t we? I couldn’t help imagining what Javi would’ve said, though. The people up top, they decide that what’s good for them will just have to be good for everybody else too. The worst thing is how they’ve convinced people to believe they’re working for us, even while they’re walking all over us.

  And those they didn’t convince sometimes ended up dead. The examiners might have arranged Javi’s death in the Exam because of opinions like that.

  “How long is the training?” Prisha asked, her tone unreadable. Was she hoping she’d still find some loophole to get out of this mess before we had to go into actual combat?

  “That depends on you,” Hamlin said. “We’d like to get you into the field as quickly as possible. We’ve been at a standstill too long—neither the Circle nor the Dull government is happy about that. But I won’t send you out there underprepared.”

  From what Finn had told me, the pressure to defend the country was mostly coming from the Dulls. The only reason the nonmagical authorities kept their fears about magic in check was that we fought on their behalf instead of against them.

  “Usually I can get a new group of Champions in good enough shape to take on a support role in about a month,” Hamlin went on. “When we’ve finished that initial round, you’ll be stationed at one of the local bases within the territories seeing the most insurgent activity, and you’ll continue training there in between operations. Your ten-year contract with National Defense starts then.”

  “Ten-year contract?” Desmond repeated.

  Hamlin inclined his head. “When it’s over, you can choose another career path if you’d like.”

  Ten years. No one had mentioned a definite end point at all, but one that far off didn’t make me feel a whole lot better. I had to find a way to expose the Confed’s lies sooner than that.

  “The Exam was designed to test you under the worst possible circumstances you might find yourselves in,” Hamlin said. “You should be relieved to hear that most of your missions won’t be anywhere near as intense. You’ll be gathering intel, detecting and disarming malicious ’chantments, bringing in mage targets for questioning, that sort of thing. This is a long, slow war we’re fighting. I’m going to do my best to ensure you make it back to your base after each mission. All I need from you is that you listen hard and work harder.”

  “And in a month we’ll be out there battling terrorists?” Leonie said, sounding doubtful.

  To my surprise, something like a smile curled Hamlin’s lips in defiance of his scar. “You know, when I was first assigned to this position after serving in the regular National Defense stream, I balked because the Champions weren’t ‘real’ soldiers. In the years since then, I’ve come to realize that’s exactly why you’re an asset. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t adapta
ble, with on-the-spot smarts and the ability to maneuver. Everything you need is already in there.” He tapped his chest. “All I do is help you find it.”

  The words were stirring, even though finding the ability to tangle with terrorists wasn’t anything I’d ever wanted. I crossed my arms over my chest as if I could shield myself from his attempts at inspiration.

  “Enough talk,” Hamlin said. “We’ll get into your informational lessons and the higher order magical techniques later. No matter what mission you’re on, there’ll always be enemy forces nearby. We want you in excellent physical condition to match your magical precision.”

  He ordered us through a set of exercises that felt way too much like my old gym classes, just ramped up to ten times the intensity. Sprints, push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups—on and on, until my muscles were burning and sweat stung my eyes. Next to me, Prisha swiped at her damp bangs.

  Hamlin must have decided we needed a break. “Time to switch things up,” he said, motioning us to the other side of the gym where a black panel stretched along the wall. Hamlin detached a remote from its holder and pressed a few buttons.

  The panel shimmered. Six humanoid forms appeared in a row on the digital screen, glowing green against the black.

  “The targets can detect magical pressure.” Hamlin gestured with the remote, and red spots gleamed here and there on the figures. “Since it’s your first day, we’ll keep this simple. Hit your target with magic on any of those key points. Use whatever technique you’re most comfortable with. The harder and more focused the impact, the better.”

  With a clenching of my gut, I studied the figure across from me. The flow of energy around me jittered faintly against my skin, as I’d known it would. These targets might not be real, but our intent was what conducted the magic. And the intent to do harm, to destroy, weakened the magic’s inherent harmony.

  Hamlin’s gaze weighed on me. He’d seen our records from the Exam—how much detail had the examiners included? Did he know why I hesitated?

  It was just a picture. If I wanted to make a difference here, I couldn’t give them any reason to doubt me.

  I made myself draw a lyric into my throat. As I sang out the line in Spanish, I focused my intent around the magic with the words, shaping the rhythms of energy in the air into a little conjured spear. With the last syllable of the lyric, I sent that bolt flinging across the room. It struck the red dot on my target’s throat right in the center. The screen chimed, and a score appeared over the figure.

  The magic quivered again, making me queasy. This wasn’t right.

  I tuned out the niggling of distress as well as I could, but when Hamlin called the exercise to a halt, I’d only thrown a few more castings. “All right,” he said. “Twenty laps around the gym. Go!”

  As the others set off, I walked over to him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” I said.

  “What is it, Lopez?” he asked.

  “I—” Was he just playing dumb, or did he really not know what the examiners had told me? What could I say around that maldito silencing ’chantment that would make sense? I wet my lips.

  “I was told… I’ve noticed that destructive castings like the ones we were just practicing disrupt the magic. I got the impression that once I got out here, National Defense wanted me to look into ways to run operations so they don’t weaken it.”

  Before I’d even finished, Hamlin was grimacing from more than just his scar. “Kid, we’re pushing back against militants who’ll kill you first chance they get. You’ve got to be just as forceful, or you’ll all end up dead.”

  “But if it’s hurting the magic—”

  “There’s been magic for thousands of years, and no doubt there will be for thousands of years more. Worry about making sure you and your squad don’t get hurt.” He gave me a brisk pat on the shoulder. “Listen, I don’t know exactly what they told you, but the examiners will say all kinds of crap if they think it’ll get a potential Champion on board. I’m sorry if they misled you. You’ve got a real talent. There are all kinds of other ways you’ll be able to help out here.”

  He was trying to reassure me, but his words did the opposite. I’d known Examiner Lancaster might have been placating me, but I hadn’t wanted to believe it. How could the Confed not care if we were wearing away the magic?

  How many of the officials even knew about the depletion? I’d never suspected anything, never dreamed the magic had some kind of consciousness, until the Exam, and I was the only one there who’d felt it. But I couldn’t even explain that to Hamlin when I couldn’t talk about anything that had happened in those five days. I gritted my teeth against my frustration.

  “All these missions, all the fighting—I know it’s having a huge effect,” I said. “We might be killing the magic we’re supposed to be working with.”

  Hamlin got the same expression that Finn and the others had when I’d claimed the magic might be alive—like I’d suggested we were all actually on Mars. “Look,” he said, in a tone that was kind but unyielding, “if something like that is going on, the commanders will be taking it into account. Warfare is all about calculated risks and temporary sacrifices. If you see a specific reason for concern during a mission, you can always bring it to your mission leader’s attention.”

  He wasn’t going to believe me. My spirits sank as that certainty hit me. My only option was to refuse to continue—and then they’d burn me out, and that helped no one.

  The other Champions jogged by. Prisha shot a concerned look in my direction. I squared my shoulders, gathering my resolve to push back the chill inside me.

  There were other people here who knew what I’d felt, who’d been with me and believed me. I was just going to have to make people in the special ops contingent see it too. Show them, talk to them, convince them. If I could get enough of them on my side, we could push to change the standard strategies. The higher-ups like Hamlin would have to listen.

  Protect the magic, and then expose the Confed’s treachery. One thing at a time. I’d been ready to play a long game.

  Because if I couldn’t manage that, soon there might be no magic left for any purpose, good or evil.

  I ducked my head. “Okay,” I said. “I just—what they said—I was confused.”

  “No harm done.” Hamlin waved me off. “Now get on with your laps.”

  No way was I catching up with the others, but I ran until my calves were outright throbbing and my breaths felt raw in my throat. I let my mind slip back to my last moments with Finn, to his crooked smile and the glint of determination in his bright green eyes, the warmth of his cheek against mine. We’ve made it this far. Just let them try to stop us now.

  I wouldn’t let the Confed’s authorities stop me, no matter how hard things got. The magic, Finn, my parents, everyone—they needed me too much.

  Chapter Four

  Finn

  I used to think that suffering people’s disappointment in me was the worst feeling in the world. That was before I discovered pity.

  The pity mostly came in the looks I received whenever I ventured out of my family’s brownstone. 81st Street had been a haven for mages since long before the Unveiling, and almost all of my neighbors were magical. By now, nearing the end of September, most of them knew that the youngest Lockwood had been severed from magic, even before they glimpsed the little curved X marked on my temple like a four-legged spider. I could thank gossip for preceding me.

  People who used to shoot me a casual greeting now offered solemn bobs of their heads or pained half-smiles. I didn’t need supersonic hearing to decipher the murmurs after I’d passed by. The poor boy, whatever is he going to do with himself now? Can you imagine how his parents must feel? Such an unfortunate situation.

  I knew because I’d heard the same murmurs about other Burnouts, novices from this or that middling old-magic family who’d come out of the Exam similarly marked. If anything, the tongues would be wagging harder for me. I was a Lockwood: grandnephew of a member of the Circle, s
on of two of the most respected mages in the city. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen to novices like me.

  No, I was supposed to have my place in the college handed to me on a silver platter regardless of how little I deserved it.

  My family was handling the situation as well as I could have hoped. My parents were giving me a wide berth while I sorted my head out, but when I talked with them, other than occasional tentative pauses, the conversations flowed almost as well as they used to. They were concerned about me, obviously, but they seemed to have decided not to lay those concerns at my feet while I was grappling with the immediate consequences of my failure.

  My older sister Margo showed up for brunch on a Sunday morning three weeks after I’d emerged from Rikers Island. She wrinkled her nose at the Burnout mark, declared it “awfully barbaric,” and proceeded to tease me throughout the meal in that fond way she’d always had, as if I couldn’t be all that fragile. For moments here and there, I almost forgot anything was different. I started to wish she didn’t have to leave.

  After the dishes had been cleared, the two of us ended up in the back garden on our own. Margo flopped onto one of the padded birch-wood benches and stretched her lanky legs out over the stone tiles. I sat across from her next to one of the granite planters. The warm early-autumn breeze carried the scent of our next-door neighbors’ rose bushes through the high wooden fence that surrounded this pocket of privacy. A ’chantment on that fence muffled our voices to anyone who might have attempted to eavesdrop.

  Margo ran her fingers through the flyaway strands of her ash-brown hair and rested her arm along the back of the bench. She glanced over at me, and for the first time since she’d turned up, her dark blue eyes looked completely serious. My thumb itched to spin with my habitual casting to get a deeper read on her mood—a casting that now wouldn’t touch the magic I could no longer hearken.