I’d bet that as much as the Faerene magicians attending the trials wanted a reward for their time, they had freaked at what they saw as humans’ instability and didn’t want to risk being bonded to a familiar who couldn’t channel magic efficiently or who might damage them in the process of learning that control.
Lajos had been put in charge of eliminating that fear.
As good little human familiars, we would be assigned to our Faerene magician only after we’d proven that we could benefit them. In other words, we had to channel magic in a stable manner or die.
My mood flared from anger to fury.
I was done sitting here and listening to Lajos tell us to listen to our heartbeat. The hallucinations, or whatever “keeping vigil” truly meant, had achieved more than me accepting myself for my inadequacies as well as my strengths. I was more than the sum of my experiences. During the vigil, my focus hadn’t been on the magic inside me, but I had felt it anyway.
Maybe magic did pump through human mages’ hearts. However, I had felt the magic at my center, coiled around my solar plexus like a salamander around a heat source.
I reached for it with the equivalent of a mental order to it to “stop lazing around”. This wasn’t brain surgery or anything requiring a delicate touch or tactfulness. I directed the magic with my finger, pointing it at the ground in front of me.
Unfortunately, the ground in front of me was the fire pit and I’d been imagining the magic as a salamander at a heat source.
Flames climbed twenty feet into the air.
“Good grasses!” Melinda exclaimed and a second later, the flames collapsed back into the fire pit, but glowed so strongly they were blue. “Stop, Amy.”
I stopped. It was as natural as ceasing to blow out candles on a birthday cake.
The flames returned to their normal orange, red and yellow colors.
Melinda pointed with her horn to an empty patch of dirt. “Direct your magic there.”
I did. I didn’t even use my finger to point the magic as directed. It channeled there steadily, creating a pool of magic. I could see it. Magic wasn’t a color—at least, not to human eyes. But it existed. It was there, coalescing as memories of what it could be, according to Melinda’s teaching.
“Pure magic,” Marton said quietly.
I looked at him. It was easy to channel magic and think of other things. Was there pure or impure magic? What types of magic existed that the griffin seemed impressed by my neophyte effort?
“Explain to Melinda what you did,” Lajos said to me. “Everyone else, guided meditation. Listen to your heartbeat.”
“The magic wasn’t stored at my heart,” I said to Melinda. “It rests at my center, my solar plexus.” I tapped just beneath my belly button. “But that’s where I was taught to sense for qi, for life force. It may be a quirk due to my training.”
“Or it may be that human training was accurate even before you knew of magic.” Melinda glanced at Marton. “Watch my students, please.”
“I will.”
I sat, not channeling magic, but observing those around me. It turned out that I wasn’t a special snowflake in my ability to consciously reach for the magic inside me. I was just impatient. The other humans gradually revealed the same ability. Some reported that they found the magic pumping through their hearts, as Lajos had suggested. But others focused on their center, as I had. One man said the magic started in the big toe on his right foot.
Keeping vigil had had a high cost. It had been traumatizing. But it had worked.
I channeled some more magic, concentrating on making it a mere thread spinning through me. How would it feel when that thread attached to a magician and the magician pulled on it to power a spell?
“Enough.” The moon was high overhead when Lajos ended the training session. “There is hot milk and snacks in the food tent if you’re hungry. Otherwise, I encourage you to rest. Tomorrow, you will be assigned to your magician.”
Chapter 15
The anima-graphs frozen in the viewing section of the bunker, the hidden quarters originally intended to maintain connections with Faerene on other worlds, were a grim reminder of the cost the humans were bearing for the inaugural familiar trials.
Harold stood sideways to them. After hours of focus on stabilizing the thirty humans who’d exited the vigil badly, the elf was no longer as enamored of observing the human experience of the elven tradition. “We must discover why self-acceptance was so difficult for these humans.”
Self-acceptance. The last stage of keeping vigil, and the one that released those involved back into the real world, no longer locked inside their psyches.
The anima-graphs that hung suspended in space were vivid reminders of the Faerene’s voyeurism. Harold had enjoyed witnessing the humans’ inner landscapes. The terrible ending had shaken him out of that careless fascination.
Istvan didn’t even have to growl at the Fae King that these were people, people Harold was responsible for, and that the elf owed them more than this psychic torture. Harold’s face was drawn and his shoulders hunched. Growling at him would amount to no more than Istvan assuaging his sense of guilt by piling it on another.
“Fifty four of the original hundred human familiar candidates remain,” Harold addressed the assembled Faerene magicians, all one hundred of them. Roughly half of them would return to their new homes on Earth without a familiar. “The thirty we are trying to save now may be restored enough to serve as familiars in the future, but never as familiars to magicians with positions of prime importance.” Such as the magicians gathered in front of him.
Tineke swayed where she stood till Koos put a supportive arm around her. The elven woman was one of the key magicians on the Reclamation Team. The nature of her work, and its exposure to the cost that saving Earth had required of human civilization, meant that she needed a particularly robust human familiar.
“I apologize on behalf of the Fae Council,” Harold said. “When we invited you to the trials, we didn’t anticipate such a high rate of attrition among the humans. Those of you who are not matched with a human in this round of trials, it is not because you are of lesser importance.”
Politics! Istvan thought impatiently.
Ego-stroking was an essential skill for an elected king. Harold was usually more subtle, but the man was tired.
“The matches are decided based on a range of criteria. However, if you are not matched this time, and you return for another round of trials, you will be prioritized.” Harold rubbed his eyes. “I am so tired. Let’s get this done.”
Koos spoke up. “Pack dynamics. I’m a mated man. Heterosexual. To avoid complications my match has to be a heterosexual male or I’ll decline it. I won’t risk romance and jealousy interfering with the pack bond, or the familiar one,” he added, less intensely.
“A point we’ve considered,” Nora said. She was the lead scholar on the project, reporting directly to the Fae Council. She was also a stunning griffin with crimson feathers scattered among her golden plumage and matching crimson rosettes patterned through her tawny fur. She was beautiful, smart and oblivious to the admiration she attracted. “You are matched with Hugh.”
Istvan blinked. The matches were decided? He’d expected the magicians to have input into the match, not just the right to decline it as Koos had warned he’d exercise.
“Hugh’s tendency is to channel magic for defensive purposes. He’ll strengthen your pack magic,” Nora said.
Koos frowned thoughtfully. His gaze drifted toward the anima-images.
Tineke disentangled herself from his support. “Go.”
The werewolf strode in among the frozen anima-images, searching for Hugh’s.
“Pericles would suit me,” Istvan stated his choice clearly. Koos had been prioritized for a familiar because he was an adept magician and deeply embedded in his pack. With Koos it was about more than the individual. The Fae Council wanted to know how a pack adapted to the inclusion of a human familiar. With Istvan, how hi
s bond worked with his familiar would influence if and how other magistrates were bonded with familiars. The idea was that the human familiar channeling magic to the magician would strengthen the power of his or her spells. It could be that the opposite would happen and that in linking with a human, a Faerene magician destabilized their magic. Pericles was a good choice. He was an older man, respected in his community and would be content to tackle whatever challenges arose so as to remain there in Brazil while Istvan ensured justice in his territory that had once been the Russian Empire.
Nora laughed. She had a delightful laugh, and it was an unexpectedly joyous sound in the grim bunker. “Oh, Istvan, don’t be ridiculous.”
Her laughter might be delightful, but Magistrate Istvan resented being called ridiculous. “I would accept Saul or Tabitha.”
Nora flicked him with her tail, telling him in yet another way not to be ridiculous. “You were the easiest of all to match. Obviously, your familiar is Amy.”
His crest rose in a rare sign of agitation. “No.”
A second tail flick; this time less playful and more chiding. “Honestly, Istvan. You revealed the connection yourself. When we rushed back from the bunker to the field at the end of the vigil who did you go straight to? Who did you tuck under your wing?”
Sheltered under a griffin’s wing was one of the safest places a youngster could be. It was also a sign of trust on the griffin’s part. No griffin would allow a potential enemy so close to their heart.
“That was…I…Rory…” Istvan blustered.
Nora giggled. “Don’t blame your friend. Rory is an excellent magician and served with distinction in the Elysium Guards. No matter his interest in a human, he wouldn’t have been distracted from focusing on his duty to his students.” She tapped Istvan with a wing. “You, my dear magistrate, have a bond with Amy. One that we will formalize.” She took a deep breath. “Now, Hildegard?”
Istvan sank down into a half-crouch, tail lashing back and forth on the floor of the bunker. He was irritated by Nora’s shaky reasoning. Youngsters were vulnerable. Protecting one hardly qualified as proof of a bond with her. He wanted to protest, but his sense of fairness and decorum prohibited it at the moment. Everyone was tired. It would be selfish to delay proceedings while he argued.
Harold wandered over to him. “Walk with me.”
The elf was just going to try and convince Istvan to go along with accepting a youngster as his familiar. Nonetheless, exiting the bunker with the Fae King was preferable to sulking through the rest of Nora’s announcements of matches.
Once outside, Istvan stretched his wings and body. Being underground, even inside a state-of-the-arcane bunker inside a mountain, didn’t agree with him. Griffins were meant to possess the freedom of the land and sky.
“I need to talk to you about more than your familiar, Istvan.”
“You look like you need to be in bed, asleep.”
A weary grin momentarily curved Harold’s mouth before a yawn caught and stretched it. “Sorry.” He covered his mouth with a hand mid-gape. “We’re all tired and inclined to be cranky. Lots of guilt to go around seeing the humans suffer. I’d hoped…the familiars seemed like such a good opportunity. A chance to give something back to humanity after they’ve lost so much. So many.”
“We were warned migration would be difficult.” Istvan’s tone was more sympathetic than his words.
“How right they were, and yet, no one foresaw humans gaining the ability to use magic. Or at least, not so fast. The scholars back on Elysium are agog and pestering Nora with questions and demands. And I’m getting sidetracked. Istvan, we’re reshuffling magistrates’ territories to cover the gaps. The two juniors that were promoted are good, but they were junior for a reason. They’ll be given minor territories while they grow accustomed to being the final authority.”
Being a magistrate was an honor and a burden. Istvan lived with the weight of his duty. That he carried it relatively easily didn’t mean he couldn’t remember how hard he’d struggled in private to reach this equilibrium.
“Given that your familiar is from America, we’re going to swap Yelena and you. She has agreed to this and has sent her junior ahead of her to Moscow. She will join him in two days.”
“It’s not a good idea to give me Amy as my familiar,” Istvan protested. “I can’t be trusted to train or mentor a junior magistrate, so entrusting me with the youngest of the human familiars is irresponsible. A steady man like Pericles I could work with. I could retain Russia and draw on Pericles’s bond to me even with him in Brazil. I wouldn’t have to worry what he was getting up to.”
Harold sat down on a rock. “Istvan, on Elysium you had junior magistrates lining up to be assigned to you. It was you that refused them, not your superiors deciding you weren’t fit to tutor the next generation. Here on Earth there are too few of us for you to refuse to train others.”
“I don’t have the patience to tolerate the hijinks of youth.”
“Old gray feathers,” Harold mocked him.
Istvan crouched low in front of the Fae King. It wasn’t obeisance. He wanted to be level with Harold and have the elf understand him. “I’m sharp, impatient, and too powerful to foster a familiar as young as Amy. An older person, they have their identity and life formed. They won’t be swayed by me.”
“You underestimate the power of your personality, my friend,” Harold murmured.
“Amy needs a magician who will let her grow into her own person.”
Harold plucked a piece of grass and twisted it. “You’re ignoring how well Amy performed in the vigil. She isn’t a raw recruit. You shouldn’t underestimate any of the human survivors.”
Istvan dipped his head, accepting the rebuke. Humanity’s catastrophic suffering warranted respect.
“You shouldn’t assume that all the giving in a familiar-magician relationship will come from the magician. No, I’m not talking about the magic the familiar channels to you. Istvan, I agree that you are impatient. You are brusque and can be unkind. You don’t mean to be, but your dispassionate appraisal of events and systemic causes is perceived that way by others who see the world differently. More personally. Amy is the only human candidate whose name is known to every Faerene involved in the trials.”
“That’s because Rory flirted with her.”
Metaphorically speaking, Harold pounced. “Why did he single out her?”
“She’s the youngest…” But Istvan was too intelligent to settle for that explanation.
Harold tied a knot in the piece of grass. “Lajos called it. He said that she blends in with the Faerene. The reason she does is because she accepts us as we are. The other humans see us as other. Amy interacts with us as people. Her talent is to accept and be accepted. In the old myths the famous magician and familiar partners did more than share magic. They balanced each other. Amy will provide you with people skills.”
“I’ve managed without those for centuries.”
Harold shrugged. “This is a new world. You need to care for someone, Istvan, and allow them to care for you. Part of you knows this. It’s why you sheltered her under your wing. The Migration grants us a new beginning. We shouldn’t use it to make the same old mistakes.”
Chapter 16
I grabbed a blueberry muffin and a mug of coffee, and wandered outside. As tasty as the muffin was, I had to force myself to eat it, washing down each bite with coffee. My mouth was dry with nerves.
At the western end of the field, the Faerene were gathering. There stood the magician matches. What looked like all one hundred of them, although only half of us humans remained. Mixed in with them were Faerene I hadn’t seen before and our tutors.
Melinda had wished that I might be bonded with a unicorn. That sounded good. Or a goblin. “Closest of the Faerene to human,” Viola had said. For all of Tineke’s kindness and outrage on humans’ behalf, I didn’t want to be bonded to an elf. Lajos had put me off their kind, which was unfair and prejudiced of me.
H
eckfire, but I hated being helpless. I had no say in who I was matched with. None of us did. Some of the humans with me weren’t even trying to eat. We were beyond nervous and into terrified. The trials had been demoralizing. We were weak. Earth was threatened. The all-powerful Faerene had saved us and had the magical power to rule over us for centuries, and as familiars to their magicians we would assist in the subjugation of humanity.
Damn, damn, damn. My coffee mug was empty. At least I’d eaten. Now to keep from throwing up.
The Faerene hadn’t spelled us to sleep for what had remained of the night after we finished our first attempt at channeling magic. I’d stared into the darkness for hours. The vigil had brought so many issues to the surface along with memories.
My parents had tried to be parents. They just hadn’t been good at it. That didn’t mean they hadn’t loved me. Still loved me? I needed to find out if they’d survived the apocalypse, except that I’d warned myself not to show that I cared for anyone and so deliver them to the Faerene as potential hostages for my good behavior.
Oh God. I prayed that I’d be partnered with a Faerene I could trust and who’d be worthy of my trust. Someone quiet and good who’d give me space to carve out a new life for myself.
I missed my parents, but the gap the loss of my adopted, unusual family in Apfall Hill left in me was worse. I wanted that web of connection, of giving and receiving, of laughing and shouting and coming home.
“I will read out the names of matched partners. First the Faerene, and then, the human familiar. When you hear your name called,” Lajos looked at us humans, “go and stand with your magician. Let’s begin. Selma.” A unicorn minced forward. “Pericles.”
I was happy for the old man, and envied him. My skin felt stretched too tight, like my nerves. It was like being picked for a sports team at school, but a thousand times worse. I didn’t want to play for any of the teams, but no one was going to let me simply go home. All I could do was hope to be matched to someone not too bad.
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