Matched in Magic

by Alex C Vick

  "How far?" I asked between breaths.

  "At this pace… maybe twenty minutes," he replied.

  We didn't speak after that. All our efforts were focused on escaping the city and Gentus's search party. There'd be time enough to wonder what was going on once we were safe.

  19.1 Adelle, That Evening

  Adelle Bavois. Journal Entry 14,579. Year 6015. Day 99.

  I cannot bear this. Where to begin? Gentus would say, "At the beginning, of course." I can't I don't How strange. His example usually motivates me.

  Vidian sits in his normal chair. It is still our habit to write together when schedules permit. His pen moves smoothly, as if he documents an ordinary day. But there was nothing ordinary about today.

  The beginning, then. Art observed his first procedure. The new cotidian girl, Serena, accompanied him. She is astute to say the least. Then Art challenged me. And I allowed it. Because he was in the right.

  Vidian and Gentus returned from Phidiom and we Art No. Impossible to describe what I cannot understand. Perhaps tomorrow.

  20 A Theory

  Art slowed his pace to a walk, and I copied him, squinting as I tried to see how close we were to the end of the tunnel. The regularly spaced ceiling lights stopped a little way ahead, but there was only darkness beyond them.

  "There's a right turn just up here," said Art. "It's…" He paused. "It's…" Again, he trailed off, reaching out a hand to the wall and leaning into it.

  "What's the matter?" I asked. Almost before I'd finished my question, I felt it too. Dizziness. Nausea. A weakness in my limbs. I know this. Quickly, I drew back my force field, and the unpleasant sensations receded.

  "Suppress your magic," I said.

  Art didn't respond. His body sagged against the wall like he was about to collapse.

  "Art," I said, louder. "Listen to me."

  His eyes were squeezed shut. His breathing got louder. Gritting my teeth, I wrapped my arms around his waist before projecting my magic, fast and fierce. I used Solo Transference to move back along the tunnel, dragging him with me, hoping I wouldn't pass out until I'd taken us far enough.

  We landed in a heap on the floor when I dropped my spell. Art didn't move for a couple of seconds and neither did I. The tunnel seemed to spin around me and my stomach churned. For the love of Androva, please don't let me throw up on him.

  Gradually, the dizziness subsided. Art's eyes remained closed. I realised one of my hands was still resting on his waist, and I made to remove it. He jumped, grabbing hold of my hand and opening his eyes.

  "Oh. Sorry," he said, letting go. "Wait, what?"

  I shifted backward as he sat upright.

  "What just happened?" he said.

  "I think the right turn you mentioned is directly beneath the city's entrance," I said.

  "That's right. But why…?"

  "It was the Detection Spell," I said.

  Art frowned. "I don't follow."

  "The source of the Detection Spell has to be underneath the main doors. Up there," I added, pointing. "It's the reason we felt sick."

  "No," he said, shaking his head. "The Detection Spell doesn't affect me. It never has. And I was here two days ago. When I met you."

  We looked at each other. For a few horrible seconds I thought he was going to accuse me of giving him mage-sickness.

  "No," he said again. He gritted his teeth. "This is wrong. Magicians don't get mage-sickness, and mage-sickness is not contagious."

  "Then something weird is happening. I was halfway to a theory, but your reaction to the Detection Spell doesn't fit with my assumptions."

  "What assumptions?" Art rubbed his face before pushing his hair back. "Ugh. I feel terrible. I wish my head would stop spinning."

  "It did seem to hit you hard," I agreed. "Do you want to rest for a minute?"

  "I might have to." He closed his eyes. His eyelashes created shadows on his cheekbones. "Tell me your theory," he said. "Give me something else to focus on."

  I wondered how to begin. Usually I would charge ahead with my views regardless of my audience, but Art's opinion mattered to me.

  "I said I was halfway to a theory. I don't actually have a theory. It's probably wrong, anyway."

  "I get it," said Art. "Tell me. I won't judge you."

  I took a breath. "Arin said transition instead of procedure."

  Art's eyes snapped open. "He didn't. Did he?"

  "He did. I think they're the same thing." I put a hand to the top of my head. "My spark feels like it's right in there. Exactly where the dagger went."

  "That could also be the source of mage-sickness though," said Art. He drew up his knees and leaned backward, palms flat against the ground. "It's a magical disease, isn't it? I mean… some infected cotidians have purple in their eyes, but it doesn't make them magicians. And the procedure is a cure. One hundred percent. It's statistically proven."

  If you survive it.

  I didn't like where this was headed. I hoped I was wrong.

  "Peric was told Marty's sponsorship depends on him having the procedure," I said. "Can you explain that to me?"

  "It's not complicated. Having mage-sickness would disqualify him."

  "And that's a rule?"

  Art nodded. "No exceptions."

  "But what about the people who don't know they've got mage-sickness?" I asked. "Like Peric and Savra a couple of years ago, for example. Would they have been able to apply for sponsorship then?"

  "Not without references," said Art.

  I made a frustrated noise. "Yes, but references can't guarantee you'll never get mage-sickness."

  "It's a process," he said. "Everyone's different. References—having someone to vouch for you-is only the start. They check all kinds of things."

  "Peric and Savra seem to have bypassed all that," I said.

  "Because of their son. Anyone reacting to the Detection Spell is offered the procedure as a matter of course. And their family is looked after."

  "Really? That's…" I paused. "That's generous."

  Or calculated. Depending on the agenda.

  "It is generous," said Art. He picked up a stone and threw it across the tunnel. It landed on the opposite wall and fell to the ground with a clatter. "Hundreds of lives have been saved that way. The sponsorship model works because people trust it. They know they're safe."

  "You mean sponsored people never get mage-sickness?" I asked.

  "Almost never," said Art. "New cases are usually born in Vayl."

  "Born?"

  "Susceptibility runs in families."

  He paused. "Any chance you could tell me your theory now?"

  "It's not a theory," I said, stalling. I was losing my nerve. I remembered my conversation with Galen. How certain I'd been. I'd told him remaining silent when something was wrong was as bad as endorsing it. He'd said it wasn't my place to put another world at risk without its consent.

  Thanks to me, Art had broken more than one of Xytovia's primary laws and was running from his own family. What should I do?

  Art shuffled forward and nudged my arm. "Fine. It's not a theory. Tell me anyway."

  I met his gaze.

  "Hey," he said gently. "What's the matter?"

  To my horror, my eyes prickled.

  "Serena," he said, taking my hands, "it's all right. You don't have to tell me."

  Now he's comforting me. This is awful.

  I turned my head to one side. I thought of Marty and some of my determination returned.

  "OK. Here goes nothing," I said. "I think… I think some cotidians are born with the potential to become magicians. But they don't. They're not allowed to. Because they never encounter another spark. So they stop generating magical energy when they come of age. Which is tough. But even worse, this makes them vulnerable to mage-sickness."

  I kept my eyes on the ground, not wanting to see his reaction. "I also think the Detection Spell detects magic. Not mage-sickness. That's why it only works in the so-called early stages. That's
why it works on me. What I can't figure out is why it affected you just n—"

  "My amulet," said Art.

  His grip on my hands tightened and I looked up. There was a stunned expression on his face.

  "It has to be the amulet," he said. "I'm not wearing it. For the first time since I was five years old."

  He paused, thinking. "I took it off when Maxia died, but Mother told me I had to wear it until my birthday. Until… until I wasn't a magician. Well, I guess I know why now."

  "You believe me? You think I'm right?" I said slowly.

  "What? Of course I do."

  I felt lightheaded with relief.

  "The amulet theory is genius," I said.

  "I'm glad I was too distracted to put it back on after Grandfather's Truth Spell. It helps prove your theory." He grinned. "Sorry, I forgot. Not a theory."

  I couldn't help smiling back. "Are you feeling better?" I asked.

  "Much. We should get going. I think…"

  "What?" I said when he hesitated.

  "I think this is a very big deal. They've gone to great lengths to cover it up, so they're not going to stop looking for us."

  Art pushed himself to his feet. He stood with his hands on his knees, breathing carefully, before raising his head and squaring his shoulders. "Tell me how to get past the Detection Spell."

  I got up too, brushing dirt from the tunnel floor off my clothes. "It's not difficult. You need to suppress your magic. I mean really suppress it. And don't dawdle."

  "OK," he said. "I think I might run."

  "It couldn't hurt," I said. I stepped to one side. "After you."

  "No, you go first. I want to know you're all right," he said.

  I raised my eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure I'll be fine. I did just rescue you."

  "Well," he said, straightening his collar, "I suppose that's technically correct. If you're going to be picky."

  I laughed. "Come on. Get going."

  "See you in a minute," he said before breaking into a run. I followed, my boots thudding against the earth unevenly as I tried not to put all my weight on my bad ankle. After the right turn he'd mentioned, Art continued for at least another minute before slowing down.

  He looked over his shoulder.

  "I'm still here," I said.

  "Are we out of range?" he asked.

  I allowed my magic to expand slowly, checking for Detection Spell symptoms.

  "It seems fine," I said.

  Art's shoulders relaxed. We walked side by side, the tunnel a little wider in this section. One of the lights flickered and made a hissing noise as we walked underneath it. I jumped. Art looked up.

  "Just a break in the flow of magic," he said. "These pipes are probably ancient."

  "How much further?" I asked.

  "A few minutes. The exit is overgrown. It brings us out by the forest."

  "Do you think we'll be safe?" I asked.

  "I don't know," he said. "Grandfather did ask them to check the perimeter. Maybe you could vanish us like you did before?"

  "OK," I agreed. "But it will slow me down. I can't project two spells at once, and I won't be able to run on my ankle without Solo Transference."

  He turned his head. "Without what?"

  "It's just the name for the spell," I said.

  "I thought it was like a Flying Spell or something," said Art.

  "It can be. It's any movement against gravity, really. Diving, jumping, acrobatics… That kind of thing."

  "Tell me the name again. Solo… what?" he asked.

  "Transference. Because your magic transfers you from one place to another."

  "Right," he said. "I envy you. I'd love to try that."

  "Are you sure you can't?"

  He huffed a laugh. "No one can. The poison damage rules it out."

  "Solo Transference was one of the first spells I learned," I said. "It's so strange you think it's this amazing thing. We use it more like a training drill."

  "We?"

  "Seminary students. Underage magicians, I mean. On my world," I said.

  A staircase emerged from the gloom, steep and apparently unlit.

  "Don't worry," said Art. "There aren't as many steps as on the way down."

  The latter part of the tunnel had a gentle upward slope. It made sense we'd be closer to the surface here. I projected my force field, ready to support myself as I climbed.

  "Let me know when to swap spells," I said.

  "You'll recognise the way out," he said. "There's another Illusion Spell—it looks just like the wall around the city."

  After thirty steps or so, the darkness had lifted enough that we could see each other's faces again. A gentle flow of warm air brushed my skin. I was looking forward to being above ground.

  Art froze, putting his hand on my arm. I gave him a questioning look. Then I heard voices.

  "Are you sure this is it? Watch that branch. Here, let me help."

  "Thanks. Yes, I'm sure. The second magi-gram came from old man Bavois himself. The tunnel lets out here."

  In silent agreement, Art and I slowly began to retrace our steps until the first voice said something that made us both hesitate.

  "And we just wait here? That's all?"

  "Uh-huh. That's the order. We only use the Stasis Spell if they show themselves."

  "Why wouldn't we go in after them? We're experienced wardens. We've handled worse than a couple of teenage lawbreakers."

  "We can't. They're releasing a Stasis Spell vapour into the tunnel. No one goes in until it's dispersed."

  "Ah. I see."

  A pause. Art and I didn't move, our faces showing identical expressions of panic.

  "Magicians are a cold lot, aren't they?" continued the first voice. "That's his own grandson down there."

  "It's only a Stasis Spell," said the second voice dismissively. "Standard protocol for anyone resisting custody."

  Silence descended. Art put his mouth to my ear. "I think Grandfather found the map in my apartment. I'm really sorry. Look…" He breathed in and out a couple of times. "You can probably get past them if you're careful. Make yourself invisible, and I'll create a diversion."

  He pulled back so I could whisper to him in return. "No. I'm not leaving you."

  "We'll never get past both wardens together," he said. "The exit is too small. One drop of the Stasis Spell on your skin, and you'll be unconscious. Or I will."

  "I don't care. I'm not leaving."

  "We don't have time to debate this," he said. "The spell in the tunnel could reach us at any moment."

  "I agree. No time to talk." I took hold of his upper arms and forced him to shuffle backward on the narrow stair. "Wait here."

  I turned to the wall and began tracing lines of silver magic onto its surface—intricate symbols I knew by heart. My hands moved carefully, shaking a little as I forced myself not to rush. Accuracy was more important than speed.

  "Serena. What are you doing?" whispered Art.

  I completed the penultimate symbol. All I had to do now was add the coordinates.

  "I'm opening a portal," I said. "To a world called Terra."

  20.1 Vidian, That Evening

  Vidian Bavois. Journal Entry 15,219. Year 6015. Day 99.

  We did not stay in Phidiom long. The mage-glass was abandoned. Unlocked but barely functioning. There were no known magicians in the territory. The cotidians we spoke to were scared of mage-sickness. And of us. Father had his fun while I offered a sympathetic ear. They soon told us what we needed to know.

  We returned to question Art and Serena again. Last seen leaving the clinic for the tower library, they should have been easy to find. I know my son. At least, I did. Father discovered a map in Art's apartment that shows the old escape tunnel. I would have bet a large quantity of lumien on Art not using that tunnel. It appears I would have lost that bet.

  If all else fails, I have a hunch Serena will return to see the cotidian family. We'll be ready.

  21 Welcome To Terra

  I h
esitated for a second before entering the coordinates, choosing somewhere far from Galen and Claudia. I could always open a second portal to the island once I knew it was safe to do so. For now I settled on a remote location in Roma where the climate was mild and natural resources were plentiful.

  Once I'd activated the symbols, lighting them up in turn, the tell-tale shimmer of a portal glittered against the wall in the shape of a doorway. Behind me Art murmured something that sounded like the swear word he'd used earlier. He reached past my shoulder to brush his fingers against the layer of energy, inhaling sharply when they disappeared as if the wall no longer existed.

  "Let's go," I said, taking hold of his sleeve and stepping into the portal.

  It was instantaneous. The tunnel no longer existed. We were standing in the basin of a gently sloping green valley, blue skies above us and grass dotted with wildflowers under our feet. I shaded my eyes against the afternoon sun to double-check our surroundings. The nearby stream was exactly where I remembered—splashing and churning across a small rocky outcrop.

  Yes. This will do.

  Art was looking up and down and left and right. He bent to brush his hand across the long grass. I stared at the portal still sparkling in the air, knowing we couldn't relax until it closed.

  "This is ridiculous," said Art. "You can't open a door into another world using nothing but your force field. It's impossible. It's… it's brilliant."

  He grinned. "I'm impressed."

  I returned his smile. "I guess it is pretty amazing if you've never seen one before. Androva has used portals for a while, but my brother was the one to discover the other worlds," I said.

  "Your actual brother did that?" said Art. He blinked. "Seriously?"

  I shrugged. "Galen's kind of an overachiever ."

  Art laughed. "No kidding. And I believed Darix was a lot to live up to."

  I thought of the Communication Spell. You have no idea.

  "So… what's Androva? One of your world's territories or something?" said Art.

  "Androva is the world where I was born," I said. "Terra is the world where I currently live."

  "Right," said Art. He laughed. "You know… I've only travelled outside of Vayl twice."