Star-Born Mage

by David Estes

  “Thanks. Because my lifelong goal has been to gain your approval.”

  “I don’t care if you hate me,” she said. “This is bigger than your feelings. Or mine. Or anyone’s. If we don’t stop Dacre, there will be no anger or resentment. There will be nothing for any of us.”

  Vee said, “I don’t believe you.” She had given this all so much thought. All the facts. What she knew about Dacre, the old Dacre, coupled with the new knowledge that he hadn’t betrayed her. That Miranda had been the common denominator in so many of her problems.

  “What?”

  “You haven’t changed a bit. You always underestimated me, played me for a fool.” Vee nodded. “Yeah, maybe I was before. But not anymore. Why do you think my plan included taking away your weapons?”

  She could see the fury boiling beneath the surface of Miranda’s skin as she struggled to maintain her composure. “Well played, Vee.”

  “I know.”

  “But you’re making a mistake.”

  “So you say.”

  “I’m only trying to help.”

  “Why? And don’t give me that bullshit story about having a change of heart because you saw a bunch of starving children in a warzone.”

  Miranda’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. I’m doing it because I don’t want to die. I’m a selfish monster just like you always thought. I couldn’t care less about this galaxy or its inhabitants. As far as I’m concerned, you’re all expendable. So long as I survive.”

  Something clicked in Vee’s head. This was truth. She hadn’t considered what would happen to the Centaurian spies when their mother planetship passed through. If it was moving at a great speed… “There’s no plan to collect you and the others.”

  Miranda shook her head. “It was always a suicide mission. We were born to die to prolong the rest of the Centaurians’ existence. Of course, they didn’t tell us that. But we were stupid kids, brainwashed to believe in a cause. That we were special, heroes born to save our people. And we were, in a way. But being a hero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “Does Dacre know?”

  Miranda nodded. “I told him about my suspicions when I was still a good little spy. He was pissed off. But that was before he lost you. That changed everything, just like I had hoped it would. But then I changed. We switched sides.”

  Vee was reprocessing everything her mind had already analyzed, taking the new information and feeding it into the equation. “Look, I believe you’re trying to do this for your own selfish reasons, but I don’t believe Dacre is working against you. What if he’s trying to accomplish the same thing, but under the ruse of working with the Jackals?”

  “It’s…possible. Risky, but possible. But why would he be running from you?”

  “He’s not running from me,” Vee said. “He’s running from you. He will always only see you as a Centaurian spy, because that’s who you were back in the Academy. And now I’m with you, and he thinks you’ve tricked me somehow.”

  “He’s a good liar,” Miranda said. “We all are. We were trained to be. After all, our entire lives have been a lie.”

  “Which means you still might be lying.”

  “I know,” Miranda said. “I can barely discern the truth in my own words anymore.”

  For the first time, Vee heard something akin to sorrow in the woman’s tone. It made her look…shriveled and pale. Weak.

  Doesn’t matter. Until they knew for certain what Dacre’s intentions were, they needed to stick to the plan. “McGee,” Vee said. “It’s time. Do it now.”

  The bearded mage cocked his head to the side in that birdlike way of his that seemed to say Now now?

  Vee eyed the Jackal guards in the front of the craft. Their eyes were trained forward, safe in their belief that the prisoners were secure in their magium-plated cuffs. “Yes. Do it.”

  McGee stood, balancing as the hovercraft zipped along. His fingers cut the air to ribbons in a complicated pattern. When he was finished crafting the spell, energy rippled down his arms and the magium-plated cuffs snapped free. It should’ve been impossible. Magium prevented aura from being processed. But Magic McGee had said he could do it, and he had, more than living up to his nickname. The impossible made possible by a man whose mind was cracked if not shattered completely.

  He quickly uncuffed the rest of them, except for Miranda. She said nothing, just bit her lip and shook her head. For all Vee knew, the woman had finally told her the whole truth. But she was also a very good liar, and Vee couldn’t take any chances.

  Vee stood up and said, “Hey Jackals! Take us to your leader before we send you all back to Hole.” She traced her own spell in the air, amazed to see energy rippling along the edges. Magic had rules, yes, just not the ones she’d been taught at the Academy.

  ~~~

  Dacre knew there were moments in life where a quiet left or a quiet right would save oneself a world of trouble. Those were the moments that defined a person, when you looked into the eye of the storm and plunged ahead without hesitation.

  This was one of those moments, the Demonstrous now visible in the night sky. It’s early, he thought. The swallower of planets was beautiful, in a way. He’d never seen it from afar like this, a roiling storm-like mass that was far larger than it appeared. When, as children, they’d departed their home planetship, they’d all been cryogenically frozen.

  So many years, he thought. So many choices.

  The greatest of which was yet to come.

  They had flown to the top of the massive black stone tower. Kukk’uk had carried Dacre herself, her claws digging holes into the collar of his shirt. One of her soldiers had hauled Coffee, while it had taken a hundred or more soldiers and a nest of thick chains to lift the heavy Gremolin mag-weapon.

  But they had made it. Atop the tower, Dacre could see the whole of Rik’koon spread out beneath him. Between the towers, the streets were dotted with the Cir’u’non, all heads craned toward them. To them, this was their independence day, and thousands more were flocking to the city, filling it to overflowing. None flew now, as a holo-flag had been raised by Kukk’uk once they’d landed. Some sort of grounding order.

  Beyond the city was the gray planet, riddled with pools of boiling aura. The dark, bubbling liquid was source of the vapors they’d seen as they entered the atmosphere, the same vapors that blotted out most of the light from the purple godstar that sustained this system.

  Now, Kukk’uk opened a hatch on the roof, extricating several wide tubes that narrowed to capped points. She removed the caps and replaced them with syringes. How many? she clicked. There were more than ten, Dacre counted.

  Dacre took a deep breath, remembering that this was one of those moments. And then he said, “All of them.”

  Kukk’uk nodded as if it was the answer she’d expected, or at least hoped for, and then began rolling up his shirtsleeves and pantlegs. To Dacre’s surprise, she was gentle, not so much as scraping his skin with her curved claws. Her fingers were also remarkably deft, able to manage the needles with precision. He shouldn’t have been surprised given the way in which she’d piloted the star-rig. Each of the needles found a vein. She unlocked each delivery system and Dacre felt the aura begin to flow.

  He almost asked, How much? but remembered the pools of pure liquid aura. As much as I need, he thought. At the same time, he wondered how much his body could take, and whether it would be enough to fire such a weapon.

  A dozen or so tubes tugging at his skin, he sat down—he didn’t want to risk falling and being knocked unconscious. He crossed his legs, positioning himself next to the huge mag-weapon. There were six spellscreens, and he stretched for each to ensure they were within his reach.

  They were.

  Then he removed the prime artifact from around his neck, fitting it into a slot in the side of the mag-weapon that appeared to be made for just such an amulet. He had to hand it to the Grems—they thought of everything.

  The Demonstrous had grown even larger, its Greystorm un
furling before it, and a strange sound had filled the air. The Cir’u’non equivalent of a murmur, Dacre thought, as the clicking sounds joined together. It was a combination of fear and wonder at the sight of the worldeater. They don’t understand anything, he thought.

  “Holy mother of godstars,” Coffee said under his breath. “That’s what you’re trying to stop?”

  “Yes,” Dacre said.

  Kukk’uk clicked, I don’t understand. What are you talking about? What is that thing?

  “I lied to you,” Dacre said.

  What? You’re not going to destroy the Mage Academy?

  Dacre shook his head. “No.”

  Just then, Kukk’uk’s comms device blared with a series of clicks that Dacre’s implant translated instantly. The Alliance fleet has arrived in Godstar VII. They are heavily armed and targeting Jarnum. What are your orders, General?

  Kukk’uk stared at Dacre. Shoot them down. All of them.

  Dacre said, “Gladly,” and began to trace his first spell.

  ~~~

  “Wait,” the Archchancellor said, raising her hand. She frowned, staring through the mag-field at the gray planet looming before them.

  Tramone watched her expression cycle through several iterations: concentration, concern, surprise, realization, and then…resignation. He followed her gaze to the gray planet shrouded in a blanket of silver vapors. Inexplicably, a bright light had pierced them, round and white, so bright and piercing at the center he couldn’t look directly into it. It was like trying to look into a godstar without protective eyewear.

  “What is that?” he asked. He was sitting close to the weapon—his weapon. The one that was supposed to be used to destroy the great and powerful thing hurtling toward them at many lightyears per hour.

  AC Martin ignored his question, and said, “Mages. Fire on Jarnum.”

  “What?” Tramone said, everything beginning to make sense. Why they were here and not back in Arcos, where they could’ve just as easily used the mag-weapon he’d built. Why the AC had given him the speech about the Jackals before. She’d never intended to use his weapon to stop the alien invasion. At least not immediately. No, she wanted to take out the Jackals, and then—

  What?

  Finally, his mind was working again, emerging from the fog of flattery and self-importance the Archchancellor had cast around it.

  Something was missing, some key fact. It made sense that the AC would want to take out one of the Alliance’s key enemies, but why first? Shouldn’t the greater threat be eliminated and then their attention be turned to the Jackals?

  Wait.

  Wait.

  There was only one explanation.

  It can’t be.

  It can’t.

  Even as he hoped he was wrong, Jackal warships cut through the vaporous atmosphere, well clear of the growing light burning a hole.

  And Tramone knew he was right.

  The Archchancellor was the enemy.

  He had to stop her.

  ~~~

  The Jackal hovercraft pilot had made a bad choice, and now he lay slumped over the passenger seat while Terry occupied the driver’s chair. The vehicle was already going extremely fast, but Vee said, “Faster,” because she saw something up ahead, above the crest of the gray rock wall.

  A column of light, disappearing through the silver layer of vapors in the sky above.

  Dacre, she thought. Were they already too late? Was that beam of light cutting through planets, or the Mage Academy? Was it destroying the godstars, dooming them all?

  Terry glanced back at her, shrugged, and shoved a lever forwards, his hand turning the same colors as the machine parts.

  “We need weapons,” Minnow said.

  Vee agreed. Magic would get them far, but Terry and Minnow weren’t mages, and they would need their firepower too. It was time to make a choice, one that could get them all killed. Thankfully, Vee had lots of experience with these kinds of choices. “Miranda, are you ready?” she asked.

  Miranda’s eyes widened in surprise. She glanced at her magium cuffs, then back at Vee.

  “Magic—release her.”

  McGee used the same spell he’d used to free the rest of them, and Miranda’s shackles fell away.

  The Centaurian mage had been acting strange for a while now, and Vee almost expected her to double-cross them, to aim a spell at Vee’s heart and say, “Cease and desist.” Instead, she only nodded, tracing a spell in the air, closing her eyes in concentration. When she finished, there was a rush of air as the glyph flashed and then vanished.

  And then…nothing. “Did it work?”

  Miranda offered a scathing look as if to say, Does this look like amateur hour?

  Minnow grinned, rubbing his hands together greedily before jamming his fist down on a button that opened the main cabin doors. Air rushed past due to their speed. Further back but gaining rapidly were small dust devils. There was something besides dust being thrown around inside them.

  The something gleamed, as pale diffused light caught the edges.

  Weapons.

  One of the small tornadoes caught up and burst inside the vehicle, knocking Minnow back with an Oomph! He came up grinning, gripping his massive rocket launcher with both hands. “Thanks,” he said to Miranda. “I retract all those bad things I said about you behind your back. And the ones to your face too. Well, most of them.”

  The next tornado arrived, weapons clattering into the hovercraft. Two mag-rifles and three mag-pistols. Miranda grabbed one rifle and two pistols and handed the other two weapons to Vee. “Thanks,” Vee said, “but I still hate your guts.”

  The edge of Miranda’s lips curled. “The feeling is mutual. Now let’s kick some Jackal ass. Should we give a gun to him?” She gestured to Magic McGee, who was sniffing the dead Jackal.

  “Nah,” Vee said. “He seems more comfortable without one.”

  “What about me?” Terry said.

  A final miniature tornado spilled into the cabin, releasing the last of its magical energy. Vee’s reflexes fired, and she snatched a small metal hilt from the air, flicking the device on. Electrical energy shot forth, creating a crackling sword. “Will this work?” she asked.

  Terry smiled. “Yeah. I’m good.” He accepted the sword, powering it down to avoid frying them all.

  The gray cliffs loomed closer as the light in the sky intensified, forcing Vee to shade her eyes with a hand.

  They were out of time. “Can this thing climb walls?” she asked.

  Terry looked back. “I guess we’ll find out.” He shoved the lever forward to its maximum speed and the hovercraft responded, leaping ahead. Terry changed their trajectory slightly, angling in such a way that they wouldn’t run headlong into the wall. The closer they got, the more he turned the craft, until the rear began to fishtail. The passengers were forced to cling to anything they could get their hands on to avoid being slammed around like stones in a can being shaken by a child.

  Gray rocks raced past on one side as they skirted the edge of the crater.

  Terry maneuvered them closer…until the craft began to tip on its side, the sensors on the hovertubes picking up the wall and responding accordingly. They tipped further, causing Minnow to tumble against the far wall, which was swiftly becoming the floor, while McGee clung to the back of the passenger seat. Miranda and Vee each managed to hang from the ceiling by gripping a pole. Under their combined weight, however, the fixture began to come unfixed.

  Miranda was the first to drop, landing in a crouch beside Minnow, who was lying on his back and staring up at Vee. “Heads up,” she said, and then dropped before the pole could snap off. Minnow caught her and rolled her aside.

  Up front, the dead Jackal had been catapulted onto Terry, who was shouting, “Get the stiff offa me!”

  McGee, still gripping the seat with one arm, traced a spell in the air and flung his arm to the side. Bright red light burst from his fingertips and the Jackal reanimated, its wings fluttering as it lifted up and
away, flying through the open door on what was now the ceiling. Then it was gone.

  “Wicked,” Minnow said.

  Terry regained control of the hovercraft and steered them up the side of the cliff, bright light from the column in the sky streaming through the windshield as the passengers tumbled to the back of the vehicle.

  And then they were clear, whipping over the cliff’s edge, all the craft’s occupants spilling back onto the natural floor in a tangle of arms and legs. Vee sat up.

  “Oh sh—” she started to say, but her voice was lost in a scream as they shot off the opposite side of the cliff, the hovertubes breaking free of their hold on the solid rock as they flew into open air.

  ~~~

  Raw magical power hummed through Dacre’s veins as he formed the fourth spell. With each glyph he completed, the power seemed to magnify. His body already felt as cold as ice, and he wondered whether he would shatter once he’d completed the last spell. The mag-weapon was beginning to shake, not violently, but with small, rattling tremors that reverberated through his bones as he touched the spellscreens.

  The column of light shooting from the barrel of the weapon was as bright as that of a noonday godstar, forcing him to squint.

  What’s happening? Kukk’uk clicked. Dacre could hear the fear in her typically fearless tone.

  He ignored her, completing the fourth spell and starting on the fifth. Each spell was ice-based, of course, but meant to complement each other. Spell combinations were something that would’ve been covered in Dacre’s final year at the Academy, but he’d studied them enough on his own to feel comfortable. Plus, he’d been planning out this exact moment in his life for a long time now.

  Everything felt perfect. Spear. Burst. Snowfall. Cannon. The fifth glyph was a quick one, Melt, meant to tie the first four to the last.

  Blizzard.

  He’d never performed the Class 5 spell before, as it was notoriously difficult to control. But now, control was the last thing on his mind as he began to draw. There was a dozen known iterations of the spell, but Dacre knew there were no limits. He knew this the same way he knew ice magic was in him—an instinct he couldn’t deny even if he wanted to.