Magic and Mayhem: A Collection of 21 Fantasy Novels

by Jasmine Walt

  “13,410,” Gala said without hesitation.

  Blaise concentrated for a few seconds, doing the calculations in his head. She was right. He was one of the few people he knew who could do this kind of multiplication quickly, but Gala had known the answer almost instantaneously.

  “How did you do this so quickly?” he asked, curious about the way her mind worked.

  “I took 2,682, halved it to get 1,341, and then multiplied it by 10.”

  Blaise thought about it for a second and realized that her method was indeed the easiest way to solve the problem. He was surprised he hadn’t come up with it himself. He would definitely use this shortcut the next time he needed to do some quick calculations for a spell.

  Given the purpose of her creation, Gala’s analytical and math skills shouldn’t have surprised him, but still, Blaise was amazed. He couldn’t wait any longer to see what she was capable of. “Gala, can you try to do some magic for me?” he asked, staring at her beautiful face.

  She looked surprised by his request. “You mean, like you did earlier, in the gardens?”

  “Yes, like that,” Blaise confirmed.

  “But I don’t know how you did what you did.” She seemed a little bewildered. “I don’t know all those spells you used.”

  “You don’t have to know them,” Blaise explained. “You should be able to do magic directly, without having to learn our methods. Magic should come as easily and naturally to you as breathing does to me.”

  She appeared to consider that for a second. “I also breathe,” she said, as though reaching that conclusion after examining herself.

  “Of course you do.” Amused, Blaise smiled at her. “I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t.”

  Her soft lips curved in an answering smile. “All right,” she murmured, “let me try doing magic.” She closed her eyes, and Blaise could see a look of intense concentration on her face.

  He held his breath, waiting, but nothing happened. After a minute, she opened her eyes, looking at Blaise expectantly.

  He shook his head regretfully. “I don’t think it worked. What did you try to do?”

  “I wanted to make my own version of that beautiful flower you created in the garden.”

  “I see. And how did you go about doing it?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a graceful shrug. “I don’t know. I replayed the memory of you doing it earlier in my mind and tried to picture myself in your place, but I don’t think it works like that.”

  “No, you’re right, that’s probably not how it would work for you.” Frustrated, Blaise ran his fingers through his hair. “The problem is I don’t know exactly how it would work for you. I was hoping you would simply be able to do it, just like you did the math problem earlier.”

  Gala closed her eyes again, and that same look of concentration appeared on her face.

  Again nothing happened.

  “I failed,” she said, opening her eyes. She didn’t seem particularly concerned about that fact.

  “What did you try to do?”

  “I wanted to raise the temperature in this room by a couple of degrees, but I could feel that it didn’t work.”

  Blaise lifted his eyebrows. Her unusual temperature sensitivity aside, it seemed that Gala did have a good intuition for sorcery. Changing the temperature of an object was a very basic spell, something that Blaise could do just by saying a few sentences in the old magical language.

  While he was pondering this, Gala jumped off the bed and came up to one of the windows. “I want to go out there,” she said, turning her head to look at him. “I want to see more of this world.”

  Blaise tried to hide his disappointment. “You don’t want to try any more magic?”

  “No,” Gala said stubbornly. “I don’t. I want to go out and explore.”

  Blaise took a deep breath. “Maybe just one more try?”

  Her expression darkened, a crease appearing on her smooth forehead. “Blaise,” she said quietly, “you’re making me feel bad right now.”

  “What?” Blaise couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice. “Why?”

  “Because you’re making me feel used, like that object that you intended me to be,” she said, sounding upset. “What do you want from me? Am I to be some tool that people use to do magic? Is that my purpose in life?”

  “No, of course not!” Blaise protested, pushing away an unwelcome tendril of guilt. In a way, that had been exactly what he had originally intended for Gala, but she wasn’t supposed to be a person, with the feelings and emotions of a human being. He had been trying to build an intelligence, yes, but it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way. It was to be a means to an end, a way to address the worst of the inequality in their society. All he had thought about was getting the object to understand regular human language, and he hadn’t considered the fact that anything with that level of intelligence might have its—or her—own thoughts and opinions.

  And now he was a victim of his own success. Gala could certainly understand language—maybe even better than Blaise, given her reading prowess. However, she was no more an object to be used than he was. His original plan of creating enough intelligent magical objects for everyone was sheer folly; if successful, it would just transfer the burden of inequality from one group of thinking beings to another—provided that Gala or others of her kind would even go along with something like that.

  Besides, it wasn’t like she could even do magic at this point. Or maybe she just didn’t want to, Blaise thought wryly. He would certainly be hesitant to display any kind of magical ability in her situation.

  She was still looking upset, so he tried to reassure her, “Gala, listen to me, I didn’t mean to make you feel like an object. What I told you about my original intentions for you is obviously out of the question now. I know you’re not a thing to be used. I’m sorry. It was thoughtless of me not to realize how you felt.” He hoped she could see the truth of his words; the last thing he wanted was for Gala to be afraid of him or to resent him.

  She looked away for a second, then turned to meet his gaze. “Well, now you know,” she said softly. “All I want to do right now is learn more about this world. I want to experience everything about it. I want to see for myself what I just read about in your books, and I want to witness those injustices you’re trying to fix. I want to live like a human being, Blaise. Can you understand that?”

  8

  Gala

  Gala watched the play of emotions on her creator’s expressive face. He was disappointed, she could see that, and it hurt, but she needed him to understand that she was a person with her own needs and desires. She wasn’t something to be used to better the lives of people she didn’t know and didn’t care about.

  She could see his internal struggle, and then he seemed to come to a conclusion of some kind. “Gala,” he said quietly, looking at her, “I understand what you’re saying, but you don’t know what you’re asking. If anyone found out about you—about what you are—I don’t know what they would do. People fear what they don’t understand—and even I don’t fully understand what you are and what you’re capable of. I can’t let you go out there, not until we know more about you.”

  As he spoke, Gala felt the beginnings of something she had never experienced before. It was a strange churning sensation that started low in her stomach and spread upward, making her chest feel unpleasantly tight. She could feel her blood rushing faster in her veins, heating up her face, and she wanted to scream, to lash out in some way. It was anger, she realized, real anger. She hated not being able to do exactly what she wanted.

  “Blaise,” she managed to say through tightly clenched teeth, “I. Want. To Go. Out. There.” Her voice seemed to rise with every word.

  He appeared taken aback by her temper. “Gala, it’s just too dangerous, can’t you understand that?”

  “Too dangerous? Why?” she demanded furiously. “I look human, don’t I? How would anybody guess that I’m not?”

  She could
see him considering her point. “You’re right,” he said after a moment. “You do appear completely human. But if we go out there together, we’ll attract a lot of attention—mostly because of me, not you.”

  “You? Why?” Gala could feel her anger cooling now that Blaise was no longer being so unreasonable.

  “Because I quit the Sorcerer Council two years ago,” he explained, “and I’ve been an outcast ever since.”

  “An outcast? Why?” Gala had just finished reading about the Sorcerer Council and the power wielded by those who had the aptitude for magic. Blaise seemed to be an unusually good sorcerer—he had to be, in order to create something like herself—and it didn’t make sense to her that he would be an outcast in a world that valued those kinds of skills so much.

  “It’s a long story,” Blaise said, and she could hear the bitterness in his voice. “Suffice it to say, I don’t share the views of most on the Council—and neither did my brother.”

  “Your brother?” She’d also read about siblings, and she was fascinated by the idea of Blaise having one.

  He sighed. “Are you sure you want to hear about this?”

  “Definitely.” Gala wanted to learn everything about Blaise. He interested her more than anything else she’d encountered thus far during her short existence.

  “All right,” he said slowly, “do you remember what I told you about the Life Captures?”

  Gala nodded. Of course she remembered; as far as she could tell, she had a perfect memory. Life Captures were the way she’d initially learned about Blaise’s world.

  “Well, as I mentioned earlier, Life Captures were invented by a powerful sorcerer named Ganir a couple of years ago. When they first came out, everyone was very excited about them. A single Life Capture droplet could allow a person to get completely immersed in someone else’s life, allowing him to feel what they felt, learn what they learned. It was also the first magical object that didn’t require knowledge of the sorcery code. All one has to do to record his life is give the Life Capture Sphere a tiny drop of blood. Another drop of blood stops the recording, allowing the Life Capture droplet to form in a special place on top of the Sphere. And then those droplets can be used by anyone, without any special equipment. All one needs to do to experience the Life Capture is put the droplet in his or her mouth.”

  Gala nodded again, listening attentively. She wanted to try these Life Captures again, to experience them for the first time in the Physical Realm.

  “My brother, who was Ganir’s assistant at the time,” continued Blaise, “was one of the few sorcerers who knew a little bit about how Life Capture magic worked. He saw how it could be used as a learning tool, as a way to teach magic to those who would never be able to gain access to the Academy of Sorcery. He also thought it was a great way for the less fortunate to escape the reality of their everyday life. A regular person could experience what it might be like to be a sorcerer just as easily as the other way around.” He paused to take a breath. “My brother was clearly an idealist. He didn’t foresee the consequences of his actions—both for himself and for the people he wanted to help.”

  “What happened?” Gala asked, her heart beating faster as she sensed that this story might not have a happy ending.

  “Louie managed to create a large number of Life Capture Spheres in secret and smuggled them out of Turingrad, distributing them throughout all the territories. He thought it might aid the spread of knowledge, improving our society, but that’s not what ended up happening.” Blaise’s voice grew hard, emotionless. “As soon as the Council learned about Louie’s actions, they outlawed the possession and distribution of Life Captures for non-sorcerers, creating a black market and a criminal underclass that specializes in the sale of these objects—thus completely perverting their original purpose.”

  “So what happened to Louie?”

  “He was punished,” Blaise said, and she could sense the anger burning underneath. “He was tried and found guilty. For giving Life Capture to the commoners, he paid with his life.”

  “They killed him?” Gala gasped, horrified at the idea that somebody could lose his life so easily. She was enjoying living so much that she couldn’t imagine ceasing to exist. How could people do this? How could they deny each other the amazing experience of living?

  “Yes. They executed him. I left the Council shortly after his death. I could no longer stand to be a part of it.”

  Gala swallowed, feeling a painful sensation in her chest. She ached, as though Blaise’s pain was her own. She must be experiencing empathy, she realized, identifying the unfamiliar feeling.

  “Could I try more Life Captures, Blaise?” she asked cautiously, hoping she was not causing him additional pain by dwelling on this topic. “I would really like to experience them here, in the Physical Realm.”

  To her surprise, his face brightened, like she had said something that made him happy. “That’s a great idea,” he said, giving her a warm smile. “It’s an excellent way for you to experience the world.”

  “Yes,” Gala agreed. “I think so.”

  She also intended to experience the world in person, but for the moment, the Life Captures would suffice.

  9

  Augusta

  Augusta watched her lover getting ready for the upcoming fight. The supple leather tunic hugged his broad frame, and the armor he put on over it looked heavy enough to fell a smaller man. To Barson, however, it was as light as air. Not because of his strength—which was admittedly impressive—but because the armor of the Sorcerer Guard was special. It was spelled to be almost weightless to the wearer and very nearly impenetrable. That was one of the perks of being a soldier in modern-day Koldun: access to sorcery-enhanced weapons and armor.

  Seeing that Barson was almost ready, Augusta got up and took her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. Her red chaise was already waiting outside. She planned to fly above the battle, so she could observe everything from a safe vantage point.

  “We’re going to meet them over on that hill,” Barson told her as they walked out of the tent. “It’s a good spot. Our archers will have a clear shot at anyone approaching, and there’s only one road that goes through there, so nobody will be able to sneak up on us.”

  Augusta smiled at him. “Sounds good.” Her lover was as obsessed with military strategy as Augusta was with magic, devouring ancient war books in his spare time.

  “I will see you in a few hours.” Leaning down, he gave her a brief, hard kiss and walked off, heading toward his soldiers.

  Augusta watched his powerful figure for a couple of minutes before climbing onto her chaise. Pulling out her Interpreter Stone, she loaded in a pre-made concealment spell, so that no one on the battlefield would be able to see her or her chaise. Once that was done, she pulled out another spell, a more complicated one this time. It was a way for her to temporarily boost her senses, enabling her to see and hear everything with as much clarity as possible. She’d used it several times before; in the Tower of Sorcery, it paid to hear every whisper.

  A quick verbal spell, and she was flying, her chaise far more comfortable than the carpets and dragons of old fairy tales. Rising high above the hill, she saw Barson’s men heading over to their chosen battleground and the narrow road stretching into the far distance. With her enhanced sight, Augusta could see much better than usual, and she marveled at the beauty of this northern part of the land, with its tall sturdy trees and rich dark soil. Even the devastation from the drought was not enough to diminish the beauty of the local forests.

  Augusta had never visited this area before, generally splitting her time between Turingrad and her own territory in the southern region. The city was the biggest on Koldun, and it was the epicenter of art, culture, and commerce. In contrast to the peasant-occupied surrounding territories, the majority of Turingrad was populated by sorcerers, members of the Guard, and some particularly prosperous merchants.

  Directing her chaise to turn north, Augusta peered at the dark mass in the dista
nce. It was so far away that even with her improved vision, she couldn’t tell what it was. Curious, she flew toward it.

  And when she got close enough to see, she could hardly believe her eyes.

  Instead of three hundred men, as Ganir’s spies had said, there were at least a couple of thousand.

  A couple of thousand peasants . . . versus fifty of Barson’s soldiers.

  Her heart racing, Augusta stared at the approaching horde. She had never seen such a large gathering of commoners in her life.

  They were marching up the dirt road, their lean faces hard with anger and their dirty bodies covered with ragged woolen clothes. In addition to the usual pitchforks, many of them were carrying weapons; she saw maces, clubs, and even a few swords. They were still far from Turingrad, but the very fact that they dared to go toward the capital with such numbers was disturbing on many levels. As someone who had grown up with stories of the Revolution, Augusta knew full well what could happen when peasants thought that they deserved better—that they had the right to take what wasn’t given to them.

  She had to warn Barson.

  Flying back toward the hill, Augusta jumped off the chaise as soon as it landed and ran toward Barson, quickly telling him what she saw. As she spoke, his jaw tightened and his eyes flashed with anger.

  “You’re turning back, right?” she asked, although it was clearly a rhetorical question.

  “No, of course not.” He stared at her like she had grown two heads. “This changes nothing. We need to contain this rebellion, and we need to do it here, before they get any closer to Turingrad.”

  “But they outnumber you by an impossible margin—”

  Her lover nodded grimly. “Yes, they do.” The expression on his face was storm-black, and she wondered what he was thinking. Was he truly suicidal enough to attempt to go up against all those peasants? She admired his dedication to duty, but this was something else entirely.