House of Blood and Bone

by Kimberley J. Ward

  “With time,” Pharawynn said, “you will come to understand the role each spirit has to play when you’re casting and summoning. You’ll have to carefully choose which one is the best fit for the spell you’re doing, or if calling on just a single one is enough. You’ll learn how to envision the outcome of the spell and what’s required to achieve it. Spirits are fickle things, often coy and troublesome. Do something wrong or incorrect and they won’t hesitate to turn on you and cause no end of mischief.”

  “They seem difficult to work with,” Nessa muttered, troubled.

  Pharawynn shrugged. “Magic is a tricky business, whether you rely on external forces or internal ones.”

  “External? Internal?” Hadn’t Orm mentioned those in passing before?

  “When it comes to magic users, to witches, sorcerers and the like,” Pharawynn began, “people commonly employ those terms to differentiate between the two types of magic sources. External magic refers to people like me, people who have to rely on external forces in order for our magics to work, such as spirits, incantations, even herbs and potions. Then there’s internal magic. This is the type of magic you process. Old Bloods… their halfling counterparts… Dragon Riders… this is their type of magic. This is your type of magic,” Pharawynn added pointedly. “The power, the magic, comes from within you. You don’t have to rely on herbs or spirits to accomplish your desires. You can simply will whatever you want into fruition. Take your friend Orm, for example. If he wants a flame to appear in the palm of his hand, all he has to do is imagine that flame, draw on a little of his magic, and it shall appear just as he wills it to be.”

  “And it’s as simple as that?”

  “It can be, I presume. I’m a sorceress. My gifts are vastly different from yours and your friend’s. From where I stand, though, it doesn’t matter what kind of magic user you are, there’s always pros and cons.”

  “And what are the cons of my type of magic?” Nessa asked, curious. To her, it seemed that if someone could simply make fire appear just by willing it, then they were pretty damn lucky.

  “Oh, I imagine there are very few drawbacks for your kind, other than attracting unwanted attention from a certain group of people, and the risk of flare outs. You are stronger than any user of external magic. You are able to do a whole range of things the likes of me can only dream of. I suppose the only real drawbacks you face are things that relate to the strength of your powers.”

  “Like flare outs and such?”

  Pharawynn shook her head. “Not necessarily. Flare outs are more of a hazard. I mean that the only limits regarding the use of internal magic come down to the user’s strength, both mentally and physically, and how much power they have in the first place. No one is the same. Not even twins. Yes, some may look identical, but there’s always something that sets them apart. The way they walk. The way they talk. Even the way they think. The smallest of things can impact on how magic is used and how it reacts.”

  Nessa absorbed Pharawynn’s teachings, for there were a great many things she needed to process and think on later, and looked down at herself. “Physical strength plays a part?” She had put on weight since arriving in Ellor. Hunter and Orm had seen to that. Jerome, too, was partial to slipping her a slice of cake every now and again. Her ribs had stopped sticking out, and she wasn’t painfully thin anymore, but she still looked like a heavy gust of wind could knock her over.

  “Only a bit,” Pharawynn laughed, catching Nessa’s meaning. “But don’t worry about that. It’s a common misconception amongst magic users that the saying ‘strong of body, strong of mind’ is literal.”

  “And it’s not?”

  “It’s not quite as literal as people think. A healthy body is better equipped to deal with the after-effects, so having a strong body is fairly important—after all, mortal flesh wasn’t meant to withstand the rush of magic. However, seeing as you’re one hundred per cent Old Blood, I don’t think you need to worry about that too much. For people with a less prestigious lineage, though, they aren’t quite as lucky as you and often take a more cautious approach. Generally speaking, the healthier the body, the healthier the mind.” Pharawynn tapped her temple. “You don’t see many invalids with all their faculties in working order, now, do you?”

  Nessa didn’t think she was in a position to say, considering that she didn’t remember anything from more than a couple of months back, and had yet to come across any “invalids”.

  “Strong of body, strong of mind has a measure of truth to it,” Pharawynn continued. “However, it’s worth noting that it’s also possible for someone to be incredibly strong-bodied, but very weak-minded.”

  “What happens to them?”

  Pharawynn shrugged. “Their power will eat at them, consuming them. Ultimately, there will be nothing left of them in the end.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s why I’m perfectly happy with simply being a sorceress. It may be considered a downside having to rely on external power sources to work one’s magic, but I like to think of it as an opportunity to broaden one’s horizons and discover new things.”

  “Well, that’s always good.”

  “No matter how old you are, I find that there’s always something new to be learnt. Provided you’re willing to learn it, of course. Often there’s a sense of laziness amongst some magic users. They’re only willing to learn one specific thing, specialising in only one area. This is clear foolishness. Why only conjure fire when you could also control water?”

  “Why indeed?”

  “It’s just narrow mindedness.”

  “The narrowest.”

  “I’m glad to see that your friends haven’t installed such notions in your head yet,” Pharawynn murmured, bejewelled fingers toying with a stray thread of the book’s binding. “It would be a dreadful shame if they were to keep you from reaching your full potential.” She grimaced. “Any more than they already have.”

  Nessa bristled. “They haven’t been keeping me from my potential. They just haven’t been…”

  “Been what?”

  “…able to help as much as I want them to.”

  “I think the phrase you should be using is ‘willing’ rather than ‘able’. Your friends aren’t willing to help as much as you want them to.”

  “Orm might not have been particularly forthcoming in regards to his magic block,” Nessa argued defensively. “But it’s not like he has any malicious intent as to why he kept that information to himself. And I doubt Hunter knows all that much about magic in order to help me. For all you know, he might not even be aware of the limits that Orm’s had placed upon him.”

  Pharawynn pursed her lips, and Nessa could see the growing number of rebuttals in the woman’s deep eyes. Pharawynn wanted to fight against her beliefs, her opinions. She wanted to argue. For reasons unknown, the older woman decided to keep her thoughts to herself. Perhaps she knew something that Nessa wasn’t yet ready to hear. Maybe she didn’t want to risk breaking the fragile truce that was slowly forming between them.

  “I’ll let you figure out your friends’ roles in all of this,” Pharawynn said simply. “After all, you know them better than I.”

  A sharp retort was contained behind Nessa’s clenched teeth. Just. What went on between her and her friends was none of Pharawynn’s business. Of course, Nessa knew her friends better than she did; after all, they were her friends. Who else would know them better?

  The cruel sense of uncertainty enveloped Nessa. Who else did know them better than her? Probably quite a few people, in all honesty. Both Hunter and Orm have said that they’ve known her for years, and yet Nessa couldn’t remember any of that. Nessa was suddenly forced to ask herself how well she actually did know them? Her working memory barely extended beyond arriving in Ellor. In that regard, Nessa didn’t really know them much more than she did Jerome or the others who worked at the guest house.

  “I do know them,” Nessa muttered, more to reassure herself than to convince Pharawynn.

/>   Pharawynn dipped her head in silent acknowledgement and resumed turning pages. Rather than continuing to the back of the book, Pharawynn returned to near the start. “External magic is the most common form of magic found these days. You don’t have to look too hard to come across a witch or a conjurer, or even a fairly skilled sorcerer.”

  Nessa let out a small sigh of relief at the change of subject. She had enough doubts of her own as it was. She didn’t need anyone adding to them, sowing seeds that were more than eager to grow. Nessa crossed her arms, warding away the lingering touch of mistrust, and rested a hip against the edge of the table. Her gaze darted between the book and Pharawynn, intrigued as to where all of this was leading, as to what she might learn next.

  “But most are lazy and don’t boast a wide array of skill sets,” Nessa finished, knowing, by now, what Pharawynn was going to say.

  Pharawynn smirked. “They allow their perceived magical limitations to become real limitations.”

  “Is that so?”

  “You see, when it comes down to the core differences between internal and external magic, it generally boils down to strength and speed, if you set aside the power’s source for a second.” Pharawynn held up a finger, anticipating the tide of questions that were poised on the tip of Nessa’s tongue. “Now, strength is a rather roundabout thing, as you may have picked up on. Speed, however, always leads to interesting debates between magic users.”

  “I bet it does.”

  “Don’t turn your nose up at the notion. You’ll soon discover that it’s quite important when you start casting your own spells. Magic can’t be rushed, my little Dragon Rider. That’s when mistakes are made. If you ever make a mistake with magic, there’s a good chance that you won’t be making another.”

  “Because you’ll have learnt your lesson the first time?”

  “Because you’ll be dead.”

  “Ah.” Delightful.

  “The moral of the story is to not rush into things beyond your understanding.”

  “And what a good moral it is.”

  Pharawynn snorted, faintly amused. “As I was saying. In many cases, external magic users are at a disadvantage when it comes to speed. After all, in order for our spells and conjurings to work, we have to first call upon the spirits, brew our little potions and recite words of power. This can, of course, take some time. However, there are ways around this.”

  “That’s fortunate, then.”

  “Indeed.” Pharawynn laid a hand on one of the book’s old pages, the handwritten text ornate but faded. “Do you know what this book is?”

  Nessa peered at it, searching for a title, a clue. “Umm?”

  “It’s a grimoire,” Pharawynn said, her voice holding a touch of reverence, of wonderment. “A textbook of magic.”

  Nessa felt a jolt of surprise. Another grimoire? Aoife had told her that such books were rare, kept within families of powerful magic users. She gazed upon the tattered book with new insight, dismayed to find that it looked so different from Chaos’ grimoire.

  “It’s been passed down through countless generations of my family,” Pharawynn murmured, not noticing Nessa’s astonishment, her awe. “Being carefully curated by the hands it falls into, by the hands of my ancestors. On these pages, written by my kin, are the teachings of how we learnt to call upon the Atheals, how we learnt to command them to carry out our wills. This here holds the instructions on how to create mystical objects like talismans and amulets, and how to imbue objects with spells. Each grimoire is unique, the content within specially orchestrated to take advantage of the spellcaster’s strength and minimise their weaknesses. Because, as I may have said already, magic varies from person to person. Each family of spellcasters has certain magic attributes that they want to utilise, to nurture and grow.”

  “I guess that if you have a unique gift,” Nessa mused, “then you’d want to make the most of it.”

  “Just so, my dear girl. Just so.” Pharawynn caressed the page, her fingertips gently brushing the calligraphy in the bottom right-hand corner. Nessa thought that it may have been a name, a signature, but the loops and swirls made it unreadable to her.

  “Not many grimoires exist anymore,” Pharawynn continued in a low murmur. “Not that there were all that many to begin with.” Her eyes met Nessa’s, their flinty depths filled with flecks of sadness and loss. “After all, few people know how to read and write, even today. I can’t imagine how illiterate people were a couple of centuries ago. The few families whose blood was filled with enough magic to warrant a grimoire were fearful of getting caught up in the king’s Old Blood purge, so they destroyed their priceless treasures.”

  Nessa cleared her throat. “But some survived? Not all of them were destroyed?” She knew that there was at least one other surviving grimoire out there: the one that was safely hidden away in her room on the other side of the city, a beautiful and rare grimoire with silver covers and a hunger for her blood that she chose to satisfy. That was her small sacrifice for a glimpse into a world denied to most, a world filled with secrets and mystery, with sigils and fickle spirits.

  “Some, I suppose,” Pharawynn said. “It would make sense that others survived if this one did.”

  “But you don’t know how many?”

  With a shrug of a shoulder, Pharawynn said, “Grimoires are kept secret, only shared between those in the family. Outsiders rarely glimpse one. Most don’t even know of their existence in the first place. After all, anyone who does know about a grimoire would also know how valuable they are on the black market. Other magic users would happily pay an arm and a leg for one of these.” Pharawynn gave her grimoire another loving caress.

  “And yet you’ve shown me?” Nessa said quietly, wondering at the motives behind that decision, especially since grimoires were considered so valuable, so secret and precious.

  “So I have.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  Nessa opened her mouth but no answer was forthcoming.

  “You don’t seem like someone who would run around telling anyone and everyone that I have a grimoire.” Pharawynn grinned. “Nor do you look like someone who would steal from me. Besides, it would be pointless in keeping it from you. Most of the lessons I’ll be teaching you will be coming from it.”

  “But how can I learn magic when I can’t access mine? Unlike Orm, I don’t have a window or doorway. Is there a spell that can take away the block?”

  Pharawynn tapped the book thoughtfully. “There might be something.”

  Might. Nessa’s shoulders sagged with the heavy weight of disappointment. There was nothing on those tattered pages that would definitely help her. “This seems rather pointless then.”

  “Do not be disheartened, my little Dragon Rider. I have promised to aid you however I can. I do not break my promises. I will free you from the wall in your mind. You can count on that. Just because this book may not contain the answer—after all, my family is one filled with summoners and sorcerers, and blocks are commonly reserved for users of internal magic—doesn’t mean that the answer isn’t around here somewhere.” Pharawynn’s voice dropped down into a conspiratorial whisper and she winked. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have a very large collection of rare books.”

  Nessa’s eyes ran over the bookshelves brimming with tomes, scrolls and quite a few stacks of loose papers. It was a library, a museum, that specialised in the secret and the powerful. “If the answer is amongst all of that, then why are you showing me your grimoire?”

  “Why?” Pharawynn’s eyebrows rose. “Why? Because there’s nothing better to guide you into the world of calling upon the spirits and channeling their powers.”

  ∞∞∞

  Nessa’s mouth fell open. “Spirits? You want me to learn how to call upon spirits and use them?”

  “Did I not make that clear to begin with?”

  “No,” Nessa said quickly, frowning a little. “Yes. I don’t know. I thought it was more along the lines
of theory and study, not, like…actually summoning something.”

  Pharawynn let out a long-suffering sigh. “Do you not want to learn?”

  “I’m not sure. Can I?”

  Pharawynn looked puzzled. “Can you what?”

  “Summon spirits?”

  Nessa jumped, wide-eyed as Pharawynn fetched up against the edge of the table, roaring with laughter, making it shake, the glass bottles chinking together. Tears streamed down her face as she spread her hands wide on the desk, gasping for breath. Nessa’s back straightened and she scowled, torn between demanding an explanation as to what was so damn funny and simply storming out of there.

  Nessa’s indecision gave Pharawynn just enough time to wipe her cheeks clean of tears and suck in a calming breath.

  “No, no. Don’t go,” Pharawynn hiccupped, flinging out an arm, catching Nessa before she had the chance to leave. “It’s just that I forget about how naive you are when it comes to magic, and then you say something like that.”

  Nessa’s scowl deepened. “I don’t think my so-called naivety warrants such a response.”

  “Oh, when you get to my age and have seen the things I’ve seen, you’ll take your kicks wherever you can find them.”

  Nessa remained unimpressed.

  Pharawynn sighed and pushed herself upright. “Fine. Fine. You don’t see the funny side right now, but you will in the future.”

  “One can only hope.”

  Chuckling, Pharawynn shook her head. “Of course you can call upon the spirits,” she explained. “All you need to do is learn how. It’s well within your powers.”

  “But my powers are blocked,” Nessa said, confused. “So how can that be?”

  “Your magic is blocked, caged away. But it’s still there. A spark of magic still flows through your veins.”

  “And that spark will help me summon spirits?”

  “See, this is what I was talking about. The inexperience within our community is truly staggering sometimes.” Pharawynn waved a hand at her. “And you’re a fine example of this wee problem.”

  “I’m starting to feel insulted.”