Magical Arts Academy: Books 9-13 (Magical Arts Academy Omnibus)

by Lucia Ashta

  Chapter 2

  So quickly that I hardly registered what was happening, the magic sprang to life inside me.

  I all but forgot where and who I was, and what I was supposed to be doing. But I didn’t forget, not entirely. I held onto my mission and the righteousness that fueled it.

  My body no longer felt divided into parts. I wasn’t a body with appendages, with organs pumping furiously to sustain life, with thoughts, aspirations, and emotions.

  I was one boiling mass of magic. My power burned inside me, in my center. Like smelted iron, it glowed an ember orange. Red, yellow, and every color in between the spectrum, sparked within. I could see it within my vision, the one that looked only inside.

  As I imagined a lava pit might be, the magic bubbled, popped, and ignited. It was both the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and the most frightening.

  This had been inside me all along. Every time I’d believed myself ordinary, this fire had raged, waiting for me to find it. Every time I’d believed myself incapable of accomplishing something, the power within had simmered, proof that whether we believed we could or couldn’t, we were always right.

  All I’d had to do was dip into it, knowing fully it was there, and it had responded as rapidly as an eager puppy seeking attention, tail wagging and sloppy puppy grins.

  All along I’d been a witch. Based on what I was sensing now, an extraordinary witch, one fully capable of bringing the duke’s reign of terror to an end all on her own.

  Maurisse had no idea what I was capable of. As I took my first glimpses of all that I contained, I was certain I must be in shock, because I wasn’t experiencing the obvious emotions. There was no confusion or enthusiasm. There was certainly no disbelief.

  There was the fire of the purest magic, burning hot. It was a light so bright that I was certain it wasn’t meant for the eyes to see. No, I looked at it with my mind’s eye, the only one capable of processing such power.

  I already felt ready to take on Maurisse. Heck, like this, I was ready to take on the world!

  But I wasn’t sure how to get the magic from inside me... outside me. The magic seemed to be a part of me, not of anyone else. It didn’t feel as if it wanted to leave me. So how was I to direct it at Maurisse? And how did I make sure that I wasn’t sharing my power with him, but using it as a weapon?

  Perhaps these were things I should have asked Sir Lancelot, who seemed to know most things. It was unlikely that he’d encountered a witch like me before, but he might have ideas.

  Sir Lancelot! I hurried to move the owl from my hands to the floor behind me, where I hoped he’d be safe. I lowered him gingerly, but didn’t open my eyes to check on him. It was too late for that.

  There was no stopping now. I didn’t want to stop. I wanted to spend all my time here, with my power, which rose to greet me. It enveloped me like the warmest blanket in the coldest storm.

  I was home with my magic.

  But I had to find the way to direct it.

  Tentatively, I pulled on my mind’s eye and stretched tentacles from its ends. Like taffy, I pulled and molded until I had invisible fingers to do the work my physical body wasn’t able to.

  Good. I flexed my taffy fingers and discovered that I could direct them just as I would my actual hands. This is going to work.

  Ordinarily, I might have hesitated or stopped to think things through. But not now. Here, in this space, everything was moving fast, so fast that my mind couldn’t really keep up. So quickly that I stayed ahead of the doubt and the nagging thoughts, which would suggest all the ways I could fail.

  I stretched my tentacles until they reached my core, that hot center deep within the well of my abdomen, which roared like I imagined a dragon or firedrake’s fire did. My etheric fingers dove into the lava pit. Once there, I wanted them to remain in this swell of reassurance, the one that guaranteed comfort and well-being.

  I raked my fingers through the fire, and it was akin to running my physical fingers through warm sand on a beach.

  My heart was happy, soothed. All impressions of a sneering, wicked sorcerer, vanished.

  But my power wasn’t entirely content just to be. It wanted more. It’d waited for me for so long, it was ready to rise to the challenge of defeating the darkness that inhabited Maurisse.

  The fire began to bubble, edging upward, impatient, and I felt I had no choice but to respond. I was one with the power. It burned inside me at all times, even when I didn’t realize it. It was an intrinsic part of me.

  The fire level swelled, rising, wanting out.

  So I merged my tentacle fingers into scoops, and gathered the fire in each palm.

  I am ready.

  Fear sprang to life so quickly that I didn’t have the chance to stop it before it rushed across my being in a frenzied wave. But I didn’t pause to listen to its slithering intimidation. I didn’t allow it to scream, No, you aren’t ready! You can’t be. This is all happening too fast. You aren’t prepared for this.

  If anything, it hadn’t happened quickly enough. After a lifetime of neglect, nothing it did was too rapid.

  The fire pooled in my invisible palms when I allowed myself to move on instinct alone.

  I pushed the fire from my etheric palms, through my chest, down my arms, and into my actual hands.

  Through closed eyes, I could see the fire sparking and spitting and bubbling in my now outstretched palms, but my power didn’t singe my flesh. As if I were covered in dragon scales, I was comfortable with the fire that was a part of me.

  I siphoned more of my power from my core, through the walls of my body, and down my arms. It waited for me to use what I held in my hands. Once I did, it’d replenish in a steady stream until I stopped it.

  Whether or not Nando or Sir Lancelot could actually see my magic as the visible force I did, I wasn’t sure. I was supposed to give my brother the signal.

  But when I went to shape my mouth to form words, I couldn’t. I was in a place beyond words, where things didn’t operate in obeisance of normal rules.

  So I did the only thing that felt natural in that moment. I opened my mind and allowed a single sentence to pulse through it. “I’m ready.”

  I released the words while I held the image of Nando in my mind’s eye. Hear my words, I projected in that place beyond thought.

  And then I waited, enjoying the time I had to share with my fire. For soon, the wait would be over... and my magic would get to play.

  Chapter 3

  I was certain Nando received my message before I heard him rise from the floor next to me. From this space I occupied, deep within myself, and through that deep connection better able to feel the workings of the world and of magic, I knew that my intentions accomplished what they set out to achieve.

  Things were so... easy. Had I only realized sooner that magic was as simple as believing and picturing it done, this war with the Sorcerers for Magical Supremacy might have turned out very differently.

  As it was, the war was about to descend upon us in this dark dungeon space. However Nando had figured to get Maurisse down here, he was surely about to put his plan into action.

  I looked to myself as if I were about to pop. Though I trusted my magic and knew it would never hurt me, Nando might not realize that.

  Everything outside of me slowed into a series of images, of impressions, as if my mind were distilling the happenings around me into their most important parts.

  Nando raced up the stairs and pounded against the metal-reinforced door with both fists. He shouted words I couldn’t distinguish. Then two sets of footsteps ran across the floor above us. More shouts, more loud pounding.

  A flash of magic shone, bright enough to filter through the crack beneath the door, and Nando retreated down the steps at a run. A second later, the door was flung open, and Maurisse, with Sinter on his heels, took the steps carefully, one at a time, until they reached the floor and Maurisse began yelling.

  But my brother was prepared for them, with his coura
ge and sword at the ready for battle. At the base of the stairs, he swung at Maurisse and sliced at his thigh. The sorcerer roared, as much from the pain as the indignity that someone he deemed unimportant might hurt him.

  Sinter rushed to his master’s side, pulling at him, trying to drag him into the corners of the dungeon, where he imagined they’d be safer. But there was darkness everywhere, and my brother could see in the inkwell while they couldn’t.

  And my magic didn’t distinguish between light and dark. Now that Maurisse and Sinter were in the dungeon with us, there was no avoiding what was coming.

  “Get away from him, you scoundrel!” Sinter yelled, his sniveling voice high-pitched. “You’re no match for the likes of the duke.”

  “Clearly, I am.”

  “That’s only because he hasn’t used his magic. There’s no more powerful sorcerer than he, you know that, right? You’ve just signed your own death sentence.” Sinter sneered, and I felt it run along the waves of my magic, where my powers responded, wanting to end this now. No point dragging it out.

  I stood slowly.

  “But he’ll have a little fun with your sister first,” Sinter continued, unaware that death was about to descend on him. “Such a pretty thing, she is. It’d be a shame not to take advantage of that before killing her.” He laughed, filling the air with my revulsion.

  “Be quiet, you fool,” Maurisse snapped. “I need to use my magic to defeat him since I’m injured.” He emphasized the final word as if it were a great injustice that a man such as he, of his station, should have to suffer the indignity of bodily harm. He had no problem inflicting pain and torment on others, as long as he shouldn’t have to endure the same fate.

  “But—” Sinter started, only for Maurisse to interrupt him and force more verbal abuse on him. The underling had probably been about to remind the high-and-mighty duke that he couldn’t perform magic down here, at least not ordinary magic.

  Nando slashed at Maurisse again, slicing into the duke’s other thigh. Maurisse roared bloody murder, though my brother could have already killed him twice over and hadn’t. No matter, Maurisse was furious that he’d been marred, instead of grateful that his head wasn’t sliced clean off.

  “You’ll pay for this,” Maurisse growled, and launched straight into the chanting of a spell. Through his anger, he spoke loudly, and for once I could make out the words clearly.

  “This boy before me has done me wrong.

  With this spell, I punish him.

  I claim his life and ensure he won’t live long.

  He’ll die right now, through the power of this spell.

  Death will take him. Life will leave him.

  And he’ll learn the lesson not to mess with his superiors.”

  I was certain those last words at the very least must not be part of the usual spell, but magic was malleable. I understood that very well in the space I was in, with my magic boiling, choosing the perfect opportunity to strike.

  Through my mind’s eye I sensed the duke flail his arms about, clearly expecting something to happen... but it didn’t.

  “I kill him now,” he roared, apparently thinking that he could overpower magic through brute force, since that was how he approached life’s obstacles in general.

  But, of course, nothing happened. Thanks to his earlier spell, which guaranteed that no additional spells could be cast in this room, his magic didn’t gather any force.

  Nando said, “You made it so that no ordinary magician can do magic down here, remember?”

  “I’m not an ordinary magician,” Maurisse snapped, anger radiating off him in palpable waves. I saw them as I looked with that one eye that could see in the darkness.

  “Well, down here you aren’t a magician at all, now are you?”

  Maurisse growled. “Don’t you dare touch me with that sword again.”

  “I’ll ‘dare’ do whatever I have to do to protect myself, my sister, and our owl friend. We’re trapped here only because of you. Whatever fate you suffer here today will be due to your choices, not ours.”

  “‘Whatever fate I’ll suffer...’ I won’t suffer any fate, you idiot. The only one who will suffer now will be you and that pretty little thing you call a sister. I’ll make her suffer while you watch, and only then will I torture you. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll kill you. Maybe I’ll cut off all your limbs and let you try to lead a life like that. Once you finally do die, an agonizing death of course, I’ll keep your spirit trapped forever.”

  Maurisse grinned, and the air became tinged with his foulness. “I’ve never eaten owl before. I think I shall roast him, alive of course, then be kind enough to invite you to join me in your final meal. You’ll love eating owl, I’m sure.”

  Sir Lancelot whimpered from the floor behind me when I decided that was enough.

  Nando raised his sword to strike him down when I pushed more words from me to him. “Wait,” I said.

  There was a delay, but Nando heard me. Immediately, he brought his sword down and waited.

  “Join Sir Lancelot.”

  “But I need to protect you,” he said aloud.

  “Who are you talking to, you fool?” Maurisse asked, and we ignored him.

  “You’ve protected me all I need. Give me space so I won’t hurt you.”

  Nando was overprotective of me during the best of times. He wouldn’t want to step aside and leave me in close proximity to the duke and his minion.

  But he must have felt some of what was going on within me, because he did as I requested, settling at my back but not touching me as he usually would have done.

  “Take them down” was all he said.

  “What?” Maurisse laughed. “The little girl? Take us down?”

  It was a taunt. My body was that of a woman.

  “Do you hear that, Sinter?”

  “Ridiculous, Your Grace.”

  “Totally ridiculous. Now help me back up the stairs, Sinter. Just because of their little antics, they’ll go without food or water until tomorrow.”

  “That’s the least of the punishments they should have.”

  “You’re right. Perhaps I’m being too lenient, and I do have a reputation to uphold.”

  “Yes, Your Grace. Make them suffer for calling us down here like this, to attack us in the dark when we can’t see.”

  “I think I will. I’ll—”

  “Enough,” I said, pushing the thought into everyone’s minds.

  Maurisse quieted, but only for a second. “Run,” he said to Sinter, and when Sinter turned and bolted up the stairs, he added, “With me, you idiot!”

  But Sinter must have understood a bit of what was within me. He must have realized what was coming, and decided that of the two of us, I was the greater threat, the girl who talked in his mind.

  Sinter turned tail and bounded up the steps, taking two at a time. In the dark, he tripped, and fell on his face, sliding several steps. He was quick to scramble back to his feet and race out of there. He slammed the door shut behind him and was gone.

  “Coward,” Maurisse grumbled, clutching at the gashes in his thighs.

  But everyone there knew who the real coward was. Probably even the duke, deep down, realized it was he.

  I took a step toward the man, fiery palms at the ready.

  Chapter 4

  “What’s she doing?” Maurisse asked nervously, even though no one who remained in that dungeon cared for his well-being, not after what he’d done. “Why is she... glowing?”

  “Because she has magic,” Nando said, “and she’s about to kill you with it.”

  Kill him? Was that what I was about to do?

  “She doesn’t have magic,” Maurisse said. “She can’t. If I couldn’t do a spell, then she certainly can’t.” But he only sounded half certain.

  He limped backward until he leaned against the staircase railing.

  “Doesn’t she look like she has magic?” Nando prodded. “You can see her, can’t you? You can’t see anything else in
this dungeon, yet you can see her.”

  Maurisse didn’t say anything.

  “I can see the fear on your face. You realize the time of terrorizing those weaker than you, and those with less influence and wealth than you, and those more frightened than you... is over.”

  “You can’t see my face.”

  “Really? Then how do you think I was able to slice you with my sword so precisely? You aren’t bleeding to death, are you? I cut only to incapacitate, not to kill. Because yours is a death that should arrive by the hand of magic, the very magic that you’ve abused to condemn others who didn’t deserve the treatment you gave them.”

  Again, Maurisse was silent. He must have realized that there had to be at least some truth to Nando’s statements. After all, his sword strokes had been that exact, and he had allowed fear to show on his face in this dark pit where no one was supposed to be able to see it.

  But a part of me had hinged on Nando’s mention that I was to use my magic to kill the duke. Papá had trained Nando and our older brothers for combat. In the milieu of battle, men died; it was unavoidable and an accepted consequence of taking up arms.

  But Papá hadn’t trained me for combat, and yet I could wield my magic to kill as effectively as Nando wielded his blade.

  I wasn’t ready to kill; I didn’t want to. There might be nothing good left in Maurisse, and I agreed that the only way to spare humanity from his plan, and the unnecessary bloodshed it would cause, was to kill him. I just hadn’t anticipated that I’d have to be the one to kill him.

  Ever connected to me, Nando spoke to me. “I can kill him if you don’t want to.”

  I wouldn’t respond with words, but I nodded. That might be the best plan. If it was unavoidable, of the two of us, Nando was the only one prepared to hand out that fate.

  But first, magic. My magic had continued to bubble and boil all this time, and it wanted freedom. It wished that I might allow it to deal at least some punishment to the man who’d tarnished the name of magic. More than that, it was the idea of teaching him a lesson so he’d never seek to mistreat others again—for however long he lived.