Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Margo Bond Collins

  It made sense. Aeden himself did like to learn. He’d have to remember what Tere had said. Did he learn something new every day? Well, today he would, if he had anything to say about it.

  “You seem to know a lot about magic. Will you tell me about it? I don’t think I understand it.”

  Tere looked as if he would laugh again, but made an effort and schooled his face so it was neutral. “Aeden, you have to understand that your question is much larger than you might think.” He paused for a moment, seeming to focus inward. “It’s like asking someone to tell you about love.”

  Aeden fidgeted, not looking at Tere, but also not looking at Fahtin and Raki, who had walked over to listen.

  “If I were to ask you about love, Aeden, what would you say? How would you explain it to someone who was unfamiliar with the term?”

  Aeden opened his mouth, then realized he didn’t know what he’d say, and closed it again.

  “What about you, Fahtin?” Tere said. “How would you explain love to someone who was unfamiliar with it?”

  “I guess I would have to know what they wanted to know specifically.”

  “Yes,” Tere said. “You’re a smart girl.” He turned back to Aeden. “You see, it is such a broad subject, it’s difficult to know where to start. Do you explain the love a mother has for a daughter, the love a man has for his wife, the love of traveling,”—he nodded to Fahtin and Raki—“love of combat? There are many facets, and you could spend a lifetime trying to explain it and still not do an adequate job.”

  “Fine,” Aeden said. “I understand. But for your example, one could explain generally what love is. It is affection for, a feeling that makes you want to sacrifice something of yourself for someone or something else, a preoccupation with the target of your love.”

  “True, true,” the tracker said, scratching his chin. “Are you looking for a general overview, then, a general explanation of what forces there are in the world that people put under the label ‘magic’?”

  “Aye. That will be helpful. Maybe I can glean something that will help me figure out my own magic.”

  “I could perhaps do that for you,” Tere said. “Yes, actually, I think I can.”

  Urun had come over to the others and they were all settling in. Each of them knew the signs. Tere Chizzit was going to tell a tale, the only way to adequately explain a subject as broad as magic.

  Chapter 47

  “Ten times ten thousand years ago,” the tracker said, “Dizhelim was a lonely, barren place. Not too long before that, it was formless, swirling gas and liquid floating in the void. That was when the Power came upon it, drawing its disparate pieces together and melding them into what could be called the soil. But it was still not suitable for any purpose, and so the Power acted again, infusing the dark planet with life.

  “Plants, animals, even creatures that cannot be seen by the eye because they are too tiny. All of these the Power caused to be. But something was missing. Some of these creatures thought, though their thoughts were simple. What was needed to balance the world was something more complex, something greater than what had already been created.

  “And so were the humans created, all one family, all in peace. These could think and speak and could learn some of the weightier things, should it be necessary in the future.

  “But the world still lacked something. It lacked the spark of the Power itself. So the Power split off parts of itself. It was a little thing, to the Power. It was infinite and all-powerful. If you take a piece of something that has no end, what is the loss? So, miniscule parts of the Power were split off, but they were not so small to the new world.

  “The Power had observed the creatures upon the world that had been created, watching what they did with their new lives. From these observations, the Power gave parts of different types. To the light was given one type of the magic, to the darkness another. The elements of fire, wind, water, air, and the aether were given other slivers of the vast store of magical energy. To the movement of the creatures, the things they felt, to all of these were given a measure of power. The greatest share, however, was given to the sounds these creatures made, especially the humans. Speech was a powerful receptacle, but the most power was given to the thing that delighted the Power above all else: music and singing.

  “With so much potent energy in the world, the Power knew there must be caretakers, those who could teach the humans, to show them the magic’s proper use, how to live in harmony. Then was the Voordim created, the council of the powerful ones. The mighty. The gods. There were others of high magic as well, but that is for a different tale.

  “Finally, the Power was satisfied. To Surus, the chief of the gods, was given the charge to educate and nurture the humans, and Surus, for his part, accepted his responsibility with fervor, and so too did the other gods.

  “Each of the gods had powers in their own areas, their own particular magic. The god Alain, master of language, gave to the humans a language of power, Alaqotim, and his consort, Danta, created music. The two together held sway over the greater part of the power of magic in the world, and thus were song and language inextricably linked to the most potent of the spells.

  “Everyone—even the smallest child in Dizhelim—knows what eventually happened, but that is not the purpose of this tale. The misuse of magic, the eventual departure of the gods, the loss of much of the magical energy in the world, they have no bearing on what magic is. For that, look no further than the beginning of all things as I have told it.”

  The listeners remained quiet as Tere Chizzit finished. “Does that answer any of your questions, young Aeden?” he said.

  “Some of your story is wrong,” a voice said from outside the circle of fire light. Weapons were whipped out and everyone spun toward the voice. Everyone but Aeden.

  “I wondered when you would show yourself,” Aeden said, putting another piece of wood on the fire.

  Aila Ven walked into the light, a smirk on her face. “You didn’t know I was there.”

  “I did. I felt you tracking us yesterday. How did you find us?”

  The black-clad woman came through the others, each of them putting their weapons back and Tere Chizzit giving her a quizzical look. “I didn’t. You actually crossed my path, and I thought I’d follow you to see what you were up to. Aren’t you supposed to be on some quest or something?”

  “Yes,” Aeden said. “Did you see any of the creatures, the black monsters following us?”

  Aila shook her dark hair and flipped it over her shoulder, giving Aeden a firm look. “No.”

  “It’s dangerous out here, Aila,” Fahtin said. “You shouldn’t be traveling alone like this.”

  “I’m not alone. I’m with you.” Her toothy smile made Aeden snort.

  “What do you mean what I said was wrong?” Tere Chizzit asked.

  “Oh,” Aila said. “You told that story about all the gods. It’s false. There’s only one god, with many different manifestations.”

  “Really?” Urun said. “You’re one of those?”

  Aila shot another look at the nature priest. “Yes, I am one of those. There is only one god, and his name is Vanda.”

  Urun Chinowa laughed. “You’re a Vandal.” He got another heated look.

  “We don’t like to be called that,” she said, “not since it has become derogatory.”

  “Oh, come now,” Urun said. “You lot were called Vandals for a thousand years. Is not your religion named Vandalism, after your god?”

  “Yes, but people like you have made it like a curse. Now people use it to mean someone who damages or steals another’s property.”

  “Isn’t that what your church did during the Purgings? Didn’t they destroy and pillage and murder peaceful worshipers of other gods?”

  “They—”

  “Enough!” Tere Chizzit said. “There is no need for this. You believe differently. That’s fine. We will not argue with each other about it.”

  The two offenders looked at Tere, t
hen at each other. Urun nodded, then Aila did.

  “Good,” the blind man continued. “Now, Aila, to answer your question, no, I was not wrong. Maybe you don’t have a full picture of history. You know what you have heard from your priests, but let me tell you what you have no doubt never heard before.

  “As I said, the pantheon of the gods was called the Voordim. It was a gathering of all the gods into one body. All in one. As you are probably aware, language changes as time passes. Over the centuries, the name Voordim morphed to Voordan to Vandan, and finally to Vanda. Vanda. The god who is all in one. The birth of your church can be found in the name of the group of the old gods you have disavowed. Think about that.”

  “No, you’re wrong,” she said, setting her jaw firmly and crossing her arms beneath her breasts.

  “Why are you here, Aila?” Aeden interrupted. “It certainly isn’t to talk religion.”

  “I just happened to be here and chanced upon you.”

  “Stop,” Aeden said, beginning to get a little heated himself. “You’re going to need to tell the truth, or you can just turn around and go back to wherever it is that you came from.”

  She glared at him for a moment, so different from the pleasant and talkative Aila they had first met. She let out a long breath. “I want to go with you.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re doing something good. You’re trying to get rid of those things that killed your family. That’s something I can get behind. It’s important.”

  “What’s in it for you?” he asked.

  She stiffened. “Why do you ask that?”

  It was Aeden’s turn for a loud exhalation. “Aila, you are in this life for yourself. It’s evident. You wouldn’t do anything without some kind of reward.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” she said. “I do want to help. I know how it feels to have your parents taken from you. There will be others who will feel the same thing unless those creatures can be stopped.” She looked at him, eyes full of feeling. “Please let me help. I want to.”

  Aeden looked to the others. Aila kept her eyes locked on his face. Each of them nodded, Raki and Fahtin quickly, Tere a little more slowly, and Urun only after looking at her for a long minute.

  “Fine,” Aeden said.

  The woman moved to him and hugged him. “Thank you.”

  Aeden didn’t return the hug, but he didn’t push her away either. He wasn’t really thinking about her, which was saying something. The story and subsequent argument had given him an idea, and he was already formulating what he was going to do to increase his power.

  Chapter 48

  Aeden got up before the sky even started lightening with the dawn. Tere Chizzit, who’d had the last watch, nodded to the Croagh as he went off into the trees so he wouldn’t affect the sleep of the others. He brought his swords, but he didn’t plan to use them unless some danger came upon him. No, this day’s task was something else.

  He had been thinking a lot about it, and he believed he could learn more about his magic, refine it. He needed to. Without being able to use it more effectively, there was no way he would survive the numbers of animaru arrayed against him.

  Something in Tere’s story struck a chord in him. When he had shown his power the first time, and when he had used it powerfully after that, it was always in conjunction with the Song of Prophecy. The blind tracker’s account of how Aila’s religion started was another piece of the puzzle. It seemed likely that through the centuries, people had lost sight of what was originally so important. What if it was so with his magic, too? What if his clan, even the Song itself, were missing key ingredients to make them effective?

  Aeden found a small clearing far enough away from the others that even if his magic flared to life, it wouldn’t affect their sleep. He stood in the middle of the open space and controlled his breathing, setting a slow tempo and relaxing his body. After four long, deep breaths, he closed his eyes and focused inward, picturing his body, visualizing the actions he need to take.

  Aeden began to sing the Bhagant, much more slowly than made sense for it. As he did so, he began the movements for the most basic of the clan magic, the first one he had ever learned: Dawn’s Warning. The spell was simple. It made a flash of light that could blind an opponent or be used as a signal. It also happened to share words of power with the first verse of the Song.

  Why had he never made the connection completely before? According to the story Tere told, and from what Dannel Powfrey told them of the Academy, Alaqotim was the language of power, of magic. Then why were the words of power for the clan’s magic in Dantogyptain? It made no sense. Unless at sometime in the past, the clans and the Gypta had cooperated, maybe worked very closely together. How would the clans react if they heard that?

  Aeden’s arms circled each other in time with the slowed-down Song. At the precise point where the words of power would be spoken, coupled with a particular gesture, he made sure that his movements were in sync with the Song. As he finished the first verse of the Song, a bright white explosion of light manifested right in front of him. It was so bright that it lit up all the trees in the area and even appeared to blow them back. Leaves and twigs rained on him after the light disappeared.

  What was that? He had never had that reaction when doing the spell. He remembered that even Master Solon saw the first spell as fairly useless. Aeden smiled. There was no doubt. The Song, integrated with the physical movements of his clan magic, increased his power a hundredfold. Or even more. If only the masters in his clan training had known.

  His smile was short-lived, though. A crashing in the underbrush announced the arrival of all his friends, weapons out and ready for battle with an unknown foe. They all stood around looking at each other, at a loss, when all they found was Aeden in a clearing grinning to himself.

  “I have something to tell you all,” he said. “It’s very good news.”

  After Aeden had explained what he had learned about his magic and the Song of Power, the others congratulated him and agreed that it was a tremendous breakthrough. They still had to get to Sitor-Kanda, but on the way he would take time each day when they stopped to work on his magic and determine how to create the choreography for the dance he was doing. For each new spell he learned—rather, for each spell he already knew but had figured out the dance for—he would have another weapon against his foes.

  The learning proved to be more difficult than Aeden thought. While he could feel the power there, lurking, waiting for him to access its full might, he had no teacher, no one who could even tell him if he was on the right track. The first spell was the simplest by far, but they became progressively more complex after that.

  He began to see a logic in the way the spells were set up. He had always wondered why they were taught in the order they were, but now he understood. He only really had the first two parts of the Song translated, but the spells seemed to follow it. Luckily, though the earlier spells seemed to be less complex, they were no less powerful for it, at least as far as the original clan magic was concerned. If the first two spells were any indication, the power of the clan magic was unlimited, based only on his gestures and the synchronization of the dance with the Song itself.

  It took him two days to figure out the proper way to integrate the movements of Pieces of Evil, the second spell taught to the clan warriors, with the Song. The spell had always seemed a waste of time and effort to Aeden. All it did was conjure up coruscating light that swirled around the caster. It could be very pretty, but served no purpose he could see. Still, in his progression through the spell levels, he determined the choreography and practiced it. With each spell he learned, he would become more familiar with the process, more efficient.

  “Ooh, that’s very pretty,” Fahtin said as he showed the spell to her. “Your dance is fascinating, too, but the lights, those remind me of the fireworks we saw in Shinyan.”

  They were stopped for the evening at an empty hunting shack they’d found. It was not large,
barely enough to allow the whole party to lie down on the dirt floor, but it was out of the elements. Aeden, for one, didn’t feel like being rained on again. It was a simple structure, with rough log supports, smaller, straight branches laced together with rope to make the walls, and a thatch roof. It had one door and two windows on opposite sides so the breeze could circulate through it once the shutters were lifted on their hinges.

  Aeden was only half paying attention to Fahtin and Raki sitting there in front of him. The expanded motions of the spell were still new enough to him for it to require all his concentration. He stepped through it, looking as if he was slowly gathering something from the air, arms scooping and enfolding the invisible items and bringing them into him to settle in his belly. He thought it looked like a child picking thistle-down seed pods from the still air, moving slowly enough not to cause them to swirl in his movement, but insistently herding the light-as-air seeds for collection. As he did so, he pronounced the words of power, at the precise point in the choreography they were needed.

  “Voira. Tomut. Drikontam.”

  When he finished the casting, he stepped back and watched the lights along with his two friends.

  He had practiced the spell several times after he had figured out the correct movements, but this time things seemed different. The light sprang up as before, but brighter and more insistent. It swirled faster and pulsed as if angry. The swirling continued and then formed a wedge as large as Aeden, the point toward the southeast.

  The lights glowed brightly for a half a minute, changing colors from red to yellow to almost-white, then winked out.

  He turned toward Fahtin to address what she had said. “It never did that before. Usually, it’s just soft, muted colors swirling around. It almost seemed to be pointing toward something.”