The Sorcery Code

by Dima Zales

  The realization of what she had done washed over Gala in a terrible wave, breaking through whatever madness had her in its grip. Stopping in her tracks, she stared in horror at the carnage she had caused.

  Before she could begin to process it all, she heard a deep, harsh voice barking out orders, and she turned just in time to see a soldier running at her, his sword raised.

  “Stop,” Gala whispered, holding out her hand, palm out. “Please stop . . .”

  But he didn’t. Instead, he came at Gala, his weapon swinging in a deadly arc.

  She jumped back, missing the blade by a hair.

  He swung again, and she dodged this, too. His movements were like a strange dance, and she matched him as she would a dancing partner. He swung at her elbow, and she moved back her arm; he swung at her neck, and she dropped down to the ground before springing up again. He moved his foot forward; she moved hers back. He started moving faster, stabbing and slashing at her with lightning speed, and she felt her body adjusting, responding to his speed with increasing quickness of her own. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see more soldiers approaching, though they were still a distance away.

  It didn’t seem real, any of it, and Gala could feel her mind going into a new kind of mode. Now it was as though she was watching herself from a distance. Rather than just reacting to the soldier’s movements, it was almost like she was predicting what he would do based on the subtle movements of his muscles and minute changes in his facial expressions.

  Still caught up in her deadly dance, she sensed someone approaching her from the back. It was there in the dilation of her opponent’s pupils and a flash of reflection in his eyes. And just as the other soldier took a swing at her, she bent in time to feel the sword swishing through the air where her head had been just a second ago.

  Now she was up against two attackers, but it didn’t seem to matter. She was still able to dodge their swords. One swung at her arm and the other at her thigh, and her body contorted in a way she’d never had it bend before. It was uncomfortable for a moment, but effective—the soldiers’ swords missed her again.

  That was when she heard the first growl and a scream. A lion jumped at the soldiers, and she felt its agony as some soldier’s sword pierced its paw. At the same time, she heard the pained cry of the soldier whose throat got ripped out by the lion’s sharp teeth.

  Yet another soldier joined Gala’s opponents. Now she was up against three, but she was learning their movements and the dance was becoming easier, not harder. It seemed like she could move like them, only better and faster. More efficient.

  More lions pounced at the soldiers. Without even knowing how, Gala could feel the animals’ movements. It was as though a strange link was forming between her and the beasts, and suddenly, impossibly, some part of Gala’s brain seemed to be correcting the lions’ movements, making them dodge the soldiers’ swords just as Gala was dodging the attacks that came her way. At the same time, she was keeping the lions contained, preventing them from tearing at the soldiers’ flesh as the animals hungered to do.

  Filled with bloodlust, the lions fought her control, and she felt the link between them weakening as more soldiers joined in the fight. She was now dodging five attacks at once. A sword reached one of the lions, brutally slicing through its back, and Gala felt renewed fury—only she couldn’t tell if it was her own or the lion’s.

  And at that moment, she heard Maya and Esther screaming in fear.

  Her mind exploded with rage.

  Gala was through with mere defense.

  As the next soldier made his move, she grabbed his sword, wrenching it out of his hand with one swift motion and burying it in his chest. Pulling it out, she dodged the swing of her second attacker, and the sword in her hand went for his throat. She synchronized her deadly movements in such a way that when she dodged the third attacker’s blow, his sword arm continued on, slicing open the shoulder of his comrade. And before the wounded soldier could even scream, Gala caught his falling sword, swinging both weapons in a fatal arc.

  Two headless bodies fell to the ground as Gala remained standing, her mind still clouded by white-hot fury. Somewhere out there was a lion in its death throes, its agony maddening her further.

  More soldiers attacked, and Gala’s swords sliced through them with brutal precision. She didn’t consciously control how her hands and body were moving; instead, it was almost as if she was someone else. Parry, thrust, slice, dodge—everything blended together as she fought to get to the animal whose pain she could feel. Men fell all around her, dropping like flies, and the ground turned red with blood.

  Then four large soldiers loomed in front of her, moving with a speed unlike anyone else she had encountered thus far.

  The biggest of them had a pendant around his neck.

  Chapter 41: Barson

  Nothing was going according to plan. Barson watched incredulously as the beautiful young woman hacked her way through his men, fighting with superhuman strength and skill.

  When he had first seen her appear out of thin air with her strange companions, he had known that the rumors were true—that she was a powerful sorceress indeed. Teleporting so many was an achievement that few, if any, members of the Council could match. How had a young woman he’d never heard of before managed such a feat?

  For a moment, he’d hesitated, wondering if he was doing the right thing. To destroy something so beautiful would be a shame, yet he’d made a promise to Augusta—and he needed his lover on his side. Coming to a decision, he had ordered his men to attack.

  They were already prepared for a different kind of battle; no army had met a sorcerer this way since the time of the Revolution. Of course, back then, nobody had developed the strategy he was about to test.

  Instead of clustering together, he had his soldiers separate into small groups to minimize the chances of any one particular spell working on them all. He would never forget how easily Augusta had decimated the peasants’ army, and he had no intention of letting his men meet the same fate. Unlike those poor souls, his army had protection from elemental spells and detailed instructions on how to handle unusual movements of the earth. Thus, when the girl had unleashed the most powerful fire spell he had ever seen, they had been spared.

  What he had not counted on was encountering a master swordsman. Because that’s what the girl had to be, despite her delicate appearance. She fought like a man possessed, like a demon of old fairy tales, with a skill and agility that possibly superseded his own—a skill that increased with every moment that passed. How was she learning so fast? What was she? There was a kind of calculated precision to her graceful movements that seemed almost . . . inhuman.

  He noticed only one weakness. She seemed to get distracted when the lions and the old women were in danger. And as distasteful as it was, Barson knew what he had to do.

  Giving the order to set the beasts on fire, he moved forward decisively with his best men.

  She met them without even a hint of fear. Within moments, Barson and his men were fighting for their lives. The girl was working two swords in her hands, thrusting at any hint of an opening, parrying every blow that came her way. The worst thing of all, however, was that she was adapting with every strike, getting faster and more efficient as the fight went on. If he hadn’t been in mortal danger, Barson would have given anything to study her technique—because at this point, she was perfection itself, a virtuoso with a blade, her every move imbued with deadly purpose.

  The first blood in this frantic confrontation came from a strike at Kiam’s shoulder. A minute later, Larn was bleeding from his thigh. Furious, Barson put all his strength into a last desperate assault—and then he smelled the acrid odor of burning lion fur.

  The girl shuddered, her concentration broken, and Barson finally saw an opening in her defense. One quick lunge, and his sword sliced open her belly, leaving behind a deep, gushing wound.

  She screamed, dropping her weapons and clutching at her stomach.


  Barson and his men moved in for the kill.

  Chapter 42: Gala

  Gala had experienced pain before, but nothing had prepared her for this.

  The agony was debilitating. The man with the pendant—the man who seemed to fight like no other—had sliced her open.

  Clutching her stomach, she could feel the warm flow of blood trickling through her fingers, and for the first time, she was struck by the realization that she could actually cease to exist.

  No. Gala could not, would not accept that possibility.

  Time seemed to slow. In the distance, she could hear the lions roaring and feel the pain of their burning flesh. She could also see the soldiers’ blades moving ever so slowly toward her, ready to end her life.

  In that brief moment of time, a million thoughts ran through her mind. The pain in her wounded flesh was terrible, and the realization that she’d hurt the soldiers in a similar way added to her turmoil. Would she die now? Could she die? Thus far, her body did not behave as that of a regular woman, but it still had to be bound by some rules that were at least somewhat based on how human bodies worked. She got tired; she ate and slept. She got scared and happy, felt heat and cold. Would she be killed if those swords that were moving ever so slowly reached her body?

  No, Gala decided. She could not risk letting that happen; she could not let them kill her. She loved existing too much. She had too much to see, to experience. She wanted to see Blaise again, to feel his kisses.

  She also had the lions, Esther, and Maya to save.

  Just as the swords of the four soldiers were about to pierce her flesh, she put all her energy into one last desperate blast. Focusing all her fury on the metal blades that had caused so much pain, she willed them gone with all her might.

  And as whatever spell she thus unleashed started working, Gala felt a burst of agony unlike anything she’d known before. The lions roared, and she felt their pain and suffering, the screams of the soldiers adding to the chaos.

  Through the haze clouding her mind, she understood what happened. She’d made all the swords on the field explode, driving deadly shards of metal through the soldiers’ armor and into every bit of exposed flesh. Nobody had escaped unscathed—not the soldiers, not the lions, and not even Gala herself. Only Maya and Esther were sufficiently far away to be safe. Here on the field, the smoldering remnants of grass were covered with blood.

  Dazed, Gala stared at the metal shards sticking out of her body. Somehow, seeing them made the pain worse. Falling to her knees, she threw back her head with an agonized scream. As though responding to her agony, the shards of metal came out of her body, hanging for a moment in the air before falling to the ground. All around her, the same thing was happening to the soldiers and the lions.

  It didn’t help the pain, however. Her vision blurring, Gala struggled to her feet. All she wanted to do now was get away, rise above this terrible field of slaughter before anyone recovered enough to attack her again. And that was when she felt her body slowly floating up from the ground.

  Strong hands grabbed her leg as she was rising into the air, and Gala saw the soldier with the pendant—the one who’d wounded her—holding on to her with grim determination. His face and armor were covered in blood, but that didn’t seem to stop him. She was far too weak to shake him off, and they floated up together, rising slowly into the air.

  Below, Gala could see the battlefield. It was littered with bodies and soaked with blood. She had done this; she had caused all this pain and suffering. The realization was worse than the agony wracking her body.

  Lifting her hands up to the sky, Gala watched the bright blue expanse. A sound escaped her throat, a sound that turned into something else. She couldn’t stand the feel of blood on her hands; she needed to wash this nightmare away.

  She began to cry. Sobs escaped her throat and tears ran down her face, her entire body shaking as it rose higher and higher above the ground. The soldier’s hands tightened on her leg, his fingers brutally digging into her skin, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, too consumed by her own horror and bitter regret.

  A flash of bright light shocked her vision. It was followed by a loud boom and a rapidly darkening sky. Clouds appeared, veiling the sun, and the wind picked up. Another flash of light, another boom, and Gala realized that it was lightning and thunder. A storm was gathering, a weather phenomenon she’d only read about before.

  The skies opened and the rain began, huge drops falling on Gala, soaking her to the skin. The cold wetness felt good on her overheated skin, washing away the blood and grime.

  The rain also seemed to reinvigorate the big soldier hanging on to her leg. He let go with one hand and pulled out a dagger from somewhere, holding it against her thigh.

  “Take us down,” he ordered harshly. “Right now.”

  Gala tried to kick at him, but the dagger dug into her skin, and she could see the murderous intent on the man’s face. He was determined to bring them down at any cost—even if doing so meant losing his own life.

  Her body still gripped by unbearable pain, Gala instinctively reached out to the storm, feeling its fury deep in her bones.

  Suddenly, there was another flash of light and an explosion of pain. Sparks flew, and Gala realized that a lightning bolt had struck the man’s dagger, its force traveling into both of their bodies. The soldier’s grip on her leg loosened . . . and he plummeted to the ground below.

  Shocked and dazed, Gala continued floating for a moment before she found the strength to focus on something other than the pain. Remembering the thief she had healed, she tried to recall the way she felt then—the peace that had permeated every fiber of her being. And then she began to feel it again, the warm sensation that started deep inside her and radiated outward through her outstretched arms, intensifying with every moment that passed, the pain melding into pleasure, into a sense of warmth, light, and happiness.

  She wanted to freeze this moment and feel this good forever.

  Through the fog of pleasure, she felt unconsciousness slowly creeping in, and she could not fight it anymore.

  She would fall into a pleasant dream, Gala thought, and blanked out.

  Chapter 43: Augusta

  Exiting the Council meeting, Augusta hurried to her room, walking as fast as she could without actually running. During the best of times, Council meetings were far from her favorite activity, but the one today had been particularly intolerable. Jandison had yammered on and on, and all the while Augusta had been sitting there thinking about the fact that, at that very moment, Barson was probably getting rid of Blaise’s abomination.

  She wasn’t afraid for him, exactly. Her lover was a force to be reckoned with on a battlefield, and she had used plenty of protective spells to aid him in his task. It was more that she was anxious to see the creature destroyed, permanently wiped out of existence. For the past two nights, she’d had nightmares, dreams of that thing growing more powerful and the ground turning red with blood from the carnage that it caused. She knew the dreams were just a product of her subconscious mind dwelling on the situation, but they were disturbing nonetheless.

  It would be good to know that the issue was taken care of.

  Walking into her quarters, Augusta headed straight to the mirror that would show her the battle through Barson’s pendant. Sitting down in front of it, she took off the cover.

  The image in front of her was that of a battle in progress. Augusta watched with a sense of gratification as the creature unsuccessfully used a fire spell against Barson’s army. Augusta’s defenses held, as she’d known they would.

  However, as the battle continued, Augusta grew increasingly anxious. The thing was moving its body in unnatural ways, learning sword fighting with inhuman speed. Augusta knew of no sorcery that could allow someone to fight like that.

  Soon, the battle became a massacre. The creature killed with horrible precision again and again, until all Augusta could see was blood and death. The fact that the monstrosity manifeste
d itself in the form of a delicate young woman made the scene that much more macabre.

  As Barson began moving toward the creature, Augusta felt her stomach drop. “No, don’t,” she whispered at the mirror, beginning to realize how much she’d underestimated this unnatural being.

  And then Barson succeeded in wounding it. Augusta jumped up, yelling in triumph—until she saw the creature perform its most destructive magic yet. Disregarding its own safety, it made all the swords shatter to bits, sending deadly pieces of metal flying everywhere.

  “Barson, stop!” Augusta screamed as her lover—bleeding, but alive—grabbed on to the thing, floating upward with it. “Let go! Please, let go!”

  He couldn’t hear her, of course, and Augusta watched in horrified shock as the storm began and a lightning bolt speared through Barson’s body. Her elemental protection spell had likely dampened the full effect of the strike, but the pain must’ve been unbearable, even for Barson. His hands unclasped, and he began falling to his death.

  A few seconds later, the image in the mirror broke into a dozen pieces and went dark.

  Letting out a scream of agonized rage, Augusta hit the mirror, over and over, until her hands were bleeding and the mirror lay shattered on the floor.

  Sobbing, she sank to her knees.

  She had done this. She had caused her own lover’s death. If she had gone directly to the Council as soon as she’d learned about the creature, none of this would’ve happened, and Barson would still be alive. Keening in agony, Augusta rocked back and forth.

  She had let her feelings for Blaise cloud her judgment, but she would not make that mistake again. Blaise was now dead to her—as dead as his creature would be when the full power of Koldun’s sorcerers got unleashed upon it.

  The thing was evil, and evil had to be stopped at all costs.