by Kova, Elise
“I know what they will say of ‘magic from the North’ in that city of ice.” Sehra gave her a thin smile.
“Truly, the most important thing is for me to control it. If I go back to the capital and start an inferno—”
“We will see that you establish control. That was my task in all of this, what the traveler told me; I am to teach you all I know about the magic of Yargen. Now, durroe… I recommend holding out your hand.” Sehra held her palm up to the ceiling, her long fingers outstretched. Vi mimicked the motion. “I imagine this as a platform for my magic. On this platform, I will build durroe.”
“Build it?”
Sehra outlined the glyph in the book with her finger. Then, she did the same about an inch off her palm. Her movements were precise, and shaped out durroe exactly as it was in the book. The ghostly outline of the glyph appeared, hovering midair above Sehra’s skin; above the glyph was a round orb of light.
“You’re not… glowing.” Vi remembered the threads of light radiating from her body the night before.
“No.” Sehra looked at her strangely. “I envision the illusion I wish to make—the orb of light. Nothing else would be glowing.”
“Of course not,” Vi murmured. Sehra continued to stare. Well, if she was raising suspicion, she may as well go all the way. “Have you ever heard voices from the magic?”
“Voices? Of what kind?” If Sehra had to ask, then she most certainly hadn’t.
“Nothing.” Vi shook her head. “I had a strange dream last night, that’s all.” She knew better. Nothing about that had been a dream. She could still feel Taavin’s words washing over her, rippling through her veins. Vi worked to push it from her mind and quickly mirrored Sehra’s motions. “So I hold my palm out like this?”
“Yes.” If Sehra was suspicious still, she gave no indication. “Now, you will attempt to conjure the essence of durroe above your palm. Try drawing it first—that was how my mother taught me.”
Vi closed her eyes, summoning the symbol of durroe to the forefront of her mind. Lifting her other hand, she made an attempt at tracing the glyph in the air. At first, her skin, and the space above it, remained dark.
But Vi tried a second time. A third. And on the fourth, trails of light lifted from her skin, beginning to take shape before fading away frustratingly quickly.
She stared in wonder where the glyph had begun to form.
“Again, princess.”
Vi took a slow breath, held out her hand again. By the time she completed drawing the symbol, the initial lines faded and there was no illusion—no orb of light, no strands peeling off her skin to hover in the air.
“What am I doing wrong?”
“Nothing, you merely need practice,” Sehra assured her. “Try again.” The Chieftain settled back in her chair, plucking a book off a nearby shelf. She flipped through it nonchalantly, clearly settling in for what she assumed was going to be hours of work.
Vi pressed her lips together in a firm line. Sehra may not know what she was doing wrong, but Vi would bet she knew someone who did. Taavin—a voice, a man linked with fate, and most importantly, someone who was from a region of the world that supposedly had intimate knowledge of this magic.
She’d summon him again tonight, and Vi wouldn’t take no for an answer when she asked for his tutelage.
Chapter Fourteen
Vi’s hand rested on her drafting table, turned upward.
Everyone else in the fortress was no doubt tucked safely in their beds at such a late hour. But she had stayed up, waiting and listening for quiet to take over the air and assure her that it was safe to slip into her study. She could’ve summoned him in her bedroom. But that had made her feel slightly… vulnerable last time. This was going to be a business transaction, and Vi wouldn’t start it on weak footing.
She allowed magic to trickle across her skin. Sparks crackled between her fingertips and condensed into a flame in her palm—small and harmless. It was the same action she’d performed since she’d first manifested her magic. But now the flame didn’t jump, or leap, or singe the desk as it had a mere week ago. The tiny fire was a mirror of what burned on the wicks of her candles and nothing more.
After a day of practicing with Sehra and making minimal strides, she needed this.
This was the reminder that, for the first time in her life, her magic was beginning to flow easily. Even if this wasn’t the glyphs or magic of light. This much she could now do without fear, and that was progress.
Vi closed her fist, snuffing the fire.
Enough dreaming of things being simple. There was work to be done.
Taking a deep breath, Vi allowed the air to fill her lungs and feed the spark that she associated with the brilliant magic within her. She didn’t bother with Sehra’s instructions. So far, Vi had found the most success on her own, summoning the glyph and her mysterious contact in her own way.
“Narro hath,” she whispered. Just like before, light danced on her skin, and Vi felt the connection nearly instantly. “Hello again.”
There was a long pause that drew a smirk across her lips. She would bet Taavin didn’t expect her to be the first to speak between them, and Vi was glad she’d seized the opportunity.
“I see you decided to contact me again.” He made it sound as if he’d been waiting on her. As if she’d been inconveniencing him in some way.
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“I’m not.”
“Why?” Vi asked.
“Because you need me.” His words were arrogant, yet they smoothed across her skin like sunbeams.
“I don—”
“And because I need you.” That stilled her. There was a begrudging reluctance about the sentiment, and an undeniable sincerity. Vi stared up at the ceiling, looking at the intricately curved wood, waiting for what he’d say next. Fortunately, he didn’t make her ask. “We need to find the apexes.” He paused. “You need to find them.”
“Excuse me? I’m not your errand girl.” She’d contacted him to demand help and now he was trying to turn the tables on her.
“This is far greater than your ego,” he said sternly. Vi wished she had a face to look at. Though, perhaps it was better. As a disembodied voice, he couldn’t see the expression she was making at his words right now.
“Why are they so important?”
“In all the recordings by the voices through the ages, they have mentioned apexes of fate as the places where Yargen’s will is at work. You, as the champion, and me as her current voice, must go there and learn of her wisdom.”
“Her wisdom.” Vi snorted. “All I’ve seen at one of these apexes is a vision of my father and you.”
“A vision of your father?” Taavin’s voice rose with obvious interest. “Tell me of it.”
“Maybe…” Vi didn’t want to share her family with this disembodied man. That was a subject far too precious and personal. But… as he needed her, so she needed him. Which gave her an idea. “What do I get in return?”
“You’re withholding the visions of Yargen from me?” He sounded positively aghast. Vi grinned wider.
“I need a teacher, to make sense of this magic I have.” The sooner she did, the sooner she could put all worry about returning to Soricium to bed and merely be excited about being reunited with her family.
“I am not some lowly tutor. I am the voice,” he said haughtily.
“And I am the champion—” Whatever that meant. “So unless you want to find these apexes on your own, I suggest you work with me.”
There was another long pause. If it weren’t for the magic radiating off her skin, Vi would’ve thought he had disappeared entirely. But he was still with her. She could almost feel his breathing.
“Very well. You find the apexes based on my direction and tell me your visions there… And I shall endure the questions of a resident of the Dark Isle about Lightspinning.”
Vi remembered Sehra’s map. The Dark Isle… that was how the rest of the world had labeled
the Solaris Empire. This confirmed for her beyond all doubt that wherever Taavin was, he wasn’t in the Empire. Which meant he really did need her to find these apexes. Vi could work with that leverage.
“You have a deal, Taavin. I’ll find your apexes in the Solaris Empire and you teach me… Lightspinning.” It was an apt name for the magic, she supposed, thinking about the swirling glyphs she’d seen surrounding him and what Sehra had conjured.
“Now, tell me of your first vision.”
Vi obliged him, recounting what she had seen in the ruins. She spared him her emotions at seeing her father, and stuck to the facts. Taavin stayed oddly quiet throughout, not even a hum of affirmation that he had heard her.
“I see… Then, the next apex you should seek will be in a tomb marked by Yargen. I would suggest—”
Vi interrupted him before he could finish. “Wait a minute, I told you my vision, now it’s time for you to tell me how to make use of this light.”
There was an audible sigh.
“My teacher here, she can draw these glyphs in the air to use the magic.” Vi barreled ahead before he could make any kind of objection again. “All I can do is make it radiate off my skin like tiny threads.”
“You’re not focusing it carefully enough, then,” he said, after what seemed like forever.
“That doesn’t help me.” She pursed her lips together. “‘Focusing’ is too vague.”
“You said you have a teacher there, on the Dark Isle?” She couldn’t tell if he was impressed or horrified by the fact. “Why not consult with her? She’ll be able to help you far more than I can, being physically present.”
“Because I’m asking you, remember? You need me.” And because Sehra doesn’t know very much, Vi refrained from saying. She’d allow the other noblewoman some pride. “She draws the glyphs with her fingers in the air, but I—”
“No, physically drawing them is a fool’s endeavor.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Vi tried and failed not to take offense at his tone. She suddenly felt very silly trying to doodle in the air with her index finger for hours.
“Yargen’s words are too complex for a mortal hand to draw efficiently—maybe it’s possible to achieve something in that way, clearly your teacher manages. But that seems an utterly ineffective means to harness her power…You must, instead, understand the glyphs beyond all doubt. Know them in your soul—more than your eyes and ears can tell you. Know how the words resonate with your will. Only then can you gain mastery of them.”
Intent was what this magic seemed to boil down to. Not unlike the elemental magicks of the Solaris Empire, she supposed. Vi flipped open Sehra’s book, looking thoughtfully at the random page she opened to.
“When you say words… you mean the glyphs?”
“Yes, we aren’t equipped to fully capture the language of the gods with mortal means. The best we can do is through the markings—glyphs, as you call them,” he said, matter-of-fact. A godly language, that would explain why she saw them come to life on the page and resonate sound in her mind. Though if Vi hadn’t had the week she’d been having, she would’ve scoffed at the notion of these words of power entirely.
“So you’re saying I just need to memorize them more?”
“Yes and no. When you say the word, you will not draw the glyph with your hands, or ink, or by any other means. But with your mind. You must know it there. Like a musician knows his pieces, inside and out, well enough to know how it must be played in his own style.”
“Yes, intent… That should be doable,” she mumbled. If there was one thing Vi could do, it was amassing useless knowledge derived from books.
“It’s not as easy as your tone tells me you think it is.” He chuckled.
“Don’t underestimate me.” She hated how condescending he sounded. No stranger would speak to the Crown Princess that way, voice or no voice.
“Don’t underestimate Lightspinning,” Taavin fired back. “After all, if it were easy, you wouldn’t be asking me for help.”
Vi chewed the insides of her cheeks. He had a point. She’d spent hours with Sehra today and hadn’t made much progress. But those had been hours working in the wrong direction; now she had a headway.
“All right,” she started with renewed determination. “I’ll begin really committing them to memory.”
“With what?” His question reminded her that he couldn’t see the book she was looking at.
“My teacher has a tome with a great number of these glyphs.”
“Interesting…” Taavin’s voice went low. “You know that’s contraband to have on the Dark Isle. The person who delivered it could be put to death under the Queen’s law.”
“I’m the Crown Princess. All knowledge in Solaris is open to me.” Vi wasn’t sure if it was a lie or not. The map of the world—the true map—had been kept from her until recently. What other falsehoods of her world did she unquestioningly accept as fact?
“And that distinction means so very little to the rest of the world.” The statement stilled her. His words weren’t harsh or cruel. It was simple, factual. He wasn’t trying to tear her down, merely state truth.
“Regardless, it is what it is. I have it, and I will make progress,” she vowed.
“And while you make that progress, you shall seek out the next apex—a tomb marked by Yargen.”
“Yes, I remember our deal.” As if she could’ve forgotten so quickly. “Until next time.”
Before he could get another word in, Vi released the magic and took a moment to breathe. That had gone well. She’d accomplished her goal, at the very least.
Leaning forward, Vi began to pour over the glyphs and symbols in the book before her. Memorize them. She’d look over every line and circle, feel the words they invoked, until she dreamt about them.
She’d prove to Sehra and to him that this wasn’t something she was going to be daunted by. But, more importantly, she’d master the only thing standing between her and going home. Vi flipped the page and took a breath.
“Durroe,” she repeated, time and again. Vi didn’t have her hand outstretched—she wasn’t even trying to conjure the orb of light. She merely said the word and allowed her ears to become accustomed to the syllables as her eyes ran over the glyph that came to life on the page before her.
She said the word fast, slow, soft, and as loudly as she dared. With every utterance, Vi seemed to notice something new about the symbol in the book. There was a line she hadn’t understood before or a juncture she’d overlooked.
Snatching up paper from the side of her desk, Vi began drawing on it as she repeated the word. Just like after her first vision, her hand seemed possessed. It moved flawlessly over the page and crafted lines that were at first clumsy and smudged, but became flawless with practice and cemented in her memory.
By the time Vi finally leaned back in her chair, papers scattered the floor, durroe drawn across them. Her voice was horse from countless repetitions, her eyes bleary. Dawn streaked the sky, competing with the fading candlelight that now burned low. She needed to go to bed—if she was up much longer, she’d risk running into a servant coming to attend her and arouse suspicion.
“But first…” Vi lifted her hand tiredly, palm flat. The open air was now her parchment, her words the ink; her mind and will together formed her pen. With a word, she combined them all, and willed the illusion to take shape. “Durroe.”
The tiniest of threads lifted off her hand, coalescing into lines that Vi knew inside and out. For one brief second, the symbol flickered faintly above her hand, an orb like Sehra’s atop. As quickly as it came, it disappeared.
A small blurt of sheer joy rolled into laugher as Vi’s hand went limp at her side. She stared at the ceiling, the back of her head against her chair. Slowly, Vi turned her head, looking at the sketch of the rose garden Romulin had sent her.
“One word closer to mastery… only a dozen more to go,” she whispered to the blueprint tacked up against her shelves. “I’ll get this,
I promise. Then, I’m coming home to all of you.”
Chapter Fifteen
She was going to summon him again tonight, Vi decided.
It had been two days since her first lesson with Sehra. Two days, two more lessons later, and Vi’s progress had been minimal—but it had been there. Her glyph was becoming stronger, slightly more stable, but it seemed to unravel all too quickly as if there was some knot she needed to tie in the light that she couldn’t find.
Summoning balls of light was still proving difficult, but she knew she could summon a voice in her head. So that was where she’d return to. As mysterious as that man was, he knew about the magic and his help last time had been invaluable. This time she’d insist he tell her some way to expedite—
A shadow blocked out the sun as Martis’s back-lit silhouette moved in front of her line of sight. Vi sat straighter, called to attention. But before she could mutter an apology for the distraction, he started in on her.
“Princess, please pay attention.” Martis tapped the desk in front of her with the pointed end of the long stick he favored. She wondered if it made him feel authoritative to hold a mini scepter before the Crown Princess. In a way, he had more command over her life than she did.
The scratching of a pen from behind her brought Vi’s mind fully back to the present. She glanced over her shoulder at Andru, who sat in the corner. He glanced back at her, as if sensing her attention. Vi swept her hair over her shoulder as she turned forward, fussing with the ends of her braids.
She couldn’t be as relaxed as she used to be anymore. Whatever rapport, however small, she had built with her tutors was gone now. She was under the watchful eyes of the Senate. After her magic got out of hand, she shouldn’t take any more risks. Especially not before she had her new powers sorted.
Vi could imagine what the Senate and Southern nobility would say if she was discovered to have a rare magic only passed down in Sehra’s bloodline. They would make her out to be so Northern that even the magic had worn off on her. Claim that Sehra had adopted her outright and she was no longer heir to her birthright. No, on second thought, they’d likely invent far worse lies than that.