Spellshift

by Allen Snell

  Garen sighed. He didn’t like her sense of superiority, but she wasn’t wrong, either.

  “Now,” Karna continued, “if you know that water comes from the Gate of Choice, what do you think fire’s gate would be called?”

  “So, the opposite of Choice? I guess that would be…” Garen trailed off, trying to find the word.

  “Compulsion,” Karna finally answered, her focus still fixed on the horizon, imagining something Garen couldn’t. “There are some terrifying forces that can be drawn from that gate. If you’ve come into contact with any form of mind control, that’s how they achieve it.”

  “A little bit,” Garen nodded. “Though, to be honest, I was less than impressed.”

  “Then you’ve never seen a Fire Spellsword attempt it. Seth was always a little ashamed of that part of his gifts. He inherited it young, and I think he made some early regrets. Still didn’t stop him from taking command of entire mobs to use in a fight, as long as they lacked the depth to resist him.”

  Garen recoiled. “I had no idea. That sounds nothing like my dad.”

  “Well, he changed a lot for the better. I wanted to murder the boy when he first took an interest in my daughter. Kind of glad I didn’t.” Karna saw the pain on Garen’s face. “You don’t have to say anything. I saw the memory. He was a good man and a fine ally.”

  “Does that mean you were Spellswords at the same time?”

  “For a few years. He was appointed shortly before Layna took my role.”

  Garen leaned into an inquisitive stare, hoping she’d go into greater depth about that exchange. There was no polite way to ask how she was still alive, but if it meant learning about transferring spirits, it seemed very useful.

  She shook her head, touching two fingers to her forehead and closing her eyes. “No, not today. Probably not ever. I think it’s best you accept it happened and focus on how I pulled the Wind Spirit out of Nereus…which does remind me of a question I’ll likely dread the answer to. How long ago did Nereus pass?”

  Garen sighed, feeling unprepared to share the second-hand account that Morgan gave him. “I never met Nereus. I think it happened three or four years back. Some bandit took his life and started rolling through villages with his new power. A girl named Naia lost her parents and put an end to that. She’s our Water Spellsword I might have to train with.”

  Karna nodded along, unsurprised by any of it. “It’s a whole new team since my days. I saw what happened to Argus, too,” she pointed to Garen’s head. “It’s a miserable world that took him from us. I’m almost ready to say goodbye to it.”

  “Please,” Garen balked, “I saw you climb this mountain today. The way you move, I think you’ve got even odds to outlive me.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Karna said. “I feel fine. I just hate everything around me, and every day I want to be a part of this world a little bit less.” She kept her eyes straight ahead. “I know what’s waiting for me on the other side, and despite the fear of letting go, it’s a beautiful transition.”

  She said the words matter-of-factly, without remorse or seeking pity. Garen did not take them as calmly. “So, you’re miserable and you refuse to help change anything? I bet I’d wonder what the point in living was, too.”

  He suddenly hated the bitter aftertaste of his words. She didn’t respond immediately, but when she did, her voice was firm as the stone beneath them. “It’s the music. There’s no music in the Spirit Realm. You can’t have sound without space. It’s the only thing keeping me here. Every other person and memory I’m ready to leave behind. I’m just not ready for the silence.”

  Garen wasn’t sure how to respond, and thankfully, he didn’t have to. She gently pushed off the ledge and floated down toward her cabin. Garen sat for a while longer, enjoying the view and trying not to think about anything at all his grandmother said.

  * * * * *

  “You’re getting a little sloppy with your fire. I’m not even sure if you’re trying to hit me.” Karna rotated in place. The katana-shaped bokken she’d carved for training was raised and ready. She had surprising control with a sword for her small stature. Garen ran a wide circle through the grass around her with a bokken of his own. He hoped his athleticism might help him catch her off guard. After a week of training and trying everything else, he’d given up on outwitting her.

  “Couldn’t you tell? Those were obvious misdirections,” Garen said. “Besides, I’m not looking to hurt you.”

  Karna kept her guard facing him and her expression blank. “That’s been your only success since you got here. Stop treating me like I’m frail.”

  Garen pivoted hard. He used the built-up wind to launch himself at her. She ended the spell and the air dispersed. Garen was already moving as quickly as he needed. His bokken struck hers. He had the momentum and the strength advantage as the wood collided.

  Strangely, her bokken didn’t budge. His shattered into pieces. He tumbled away out of habit, knowing if it were Micah, he would punish him with a follow-through strike.

  Karna showed no sign of pursuing. She glared disapprovingly. “I think it’s funny that your earth magic was the most impressive thing about you when we began. But you still can’t grasp the Gate of Persistence. We’re only doing this because I thought you’d be a natural fit.”

  Garen threw the broken hilt of his bokken to the ground. “Or I could just use a real weapon that won’t shatter on me in a fight,” Garen said. “Or maybe my future opponents won’t be snide old ladies who know more magic than the rest of the kingdoms combined.”

  “Possibly. But you never know when a spirit will fall into the wrong hands. If you’re annoyed striking weapons that won’t break, wait until you experience the deepest magics of the Gate of Rupture.”

  Garen shrugged. “I enjoy my spars with Drake. He doesn’t play dirty.”

  “Well, that’s a meaningless distinction. If you can disintegrate the sword out of someone’s hand, who cares how fair it is?”

  Garen raised an eyebrow. “And you can do that?”

  “I would leave that to a Wind Spellsword,” Karna said with a chuckle. “Dismantling creation is as depth intensive as crawling through someone’s mind. And I don’t want to look tired and have you thinking you need to save me all over again.”

  Garen shared the humor with her. Her constant teasing about that was starting to grow on him. “So, I won’t be learning Rupture next?”

  “No, you’re in much deeper need of keeping your own bokken intact. Now, reform the weapon.”

  “Do what?” Garen asked.

  “Sorry, sometimes we get talking like you know things and I forget you really don’t,” Karna said. Garen blinked twice and turned a natural smile into a forced one. “I want you to reform it, back to how it was before you obliterated the poor thing.”

  “I can try. My earth-shaping is pretty limited on wood. It’s a lot easier to break it than to craft something pre—”

  “No, you’re not listening,” Karna said, enunciating for him like he was a child. “I said reform it, not make something new and strictly worse than my craftsmanship. Think about what you told me about the Theltus Nisdal. You watched the entire structure crumble, right? That Earth Rogue used the Gate of Persistence to rebuild it perfectly. Do you think he did all of that brick by brick?”

  Garen reconsidered what he knew about the event. There were countless structures and detailed stonework. It would have been impossible to restore it identically from memory. “No chance. He probably needed the pieces to reassemble themselves.”

  “Well, aren’t you clever.” Her sarcasm gave him no comfort. “Now, do that, but on a more appropriate scale for your talents.”

  Garen exhaled, hoping every violent impulse would leave his body with the breath. “You know, one of these days I’m going to find a way to impress you. Then you can join the rest of the world that thinks I’m a prodigy. I’ve even heard,” Garen spoke in a hushed voice, as if sharing a secret, “there are shrines to t
he south that revere the Spellswords like gods.”

  Karna rolled her eyes. “The world could use some better gods. And you could use a sword. Reform it.”

  Garen grunted and knelt over the pieces as best he could. They were scattered wider than he could actually see in the grass. He picked up the largest one he could find and reached into the Gate of Persistence. His familiarity with earth magic helped a little. His mind delved past the simple conjurations and stone shaping he was used to. Deeper than simply manipulating elements, he found what Karna kept pushing him toward.

  The gate’s true power was less obvious but every bit as real. He sunk his depth into it and felt the gate surge back at him. The broken handle felt indestructible, like it could never have entertained the thought of breaking. The feeling was enjoyable, albeit too late to matter. The damage was already done.

  He dug deeper until the splintered edge felt whole. It was clearly a wreck, but Garen couldn’t help but close his eyes and picture how perfect it was meant to be. He sensed the time and dedication that carved it from the tree. There were countless hours of whittling, even if she did it to pass the time. And though trees should have no ambitions of becoming swords, this one believed that it should.

  Garen opened his eyes in time to witness the last few strands of wood snap onto the polished surface. It looked brand new.

  “It’s a rush, isn’t it?” Karna asked with a grin.

  “It feels…amazing!” Garen laughed, his hands trembling a little. “I never knew how much purpose a thing could hold.”

  “Eh, I wouldn’t call it purpose. It’s more like the world is prone to ruts, same as us. When the rut is deep enough, like a well-crafted tool or weapon, it feels right to set it back in place. Now, we’re losing daylight. Let’s head back inside.”

  “It feels more powerful than any magic I’ve felt.” Garen followed absent-mindedly and stared at the restored bokken in his hands.

  “That, I don’t know about. There aren’t a lot of options when it comes to Persistence. It’s a bit narrow, but I’d go so far as to say that it holds the world together. I think you’ll find it useful.”

  “You know what else I would find useful, right?” Garen raised his eyebrows, hoping she would finally relent on teaching him how to help Drake. “A certain memory it’s time to share.”

  “Ha, you’re almost there. Give it one more week.”

  “Another?” Garen’s childlike exuberance took a sharp turn toward childish whining. “I can’t stay locked away out here while everyone else does the real work.”

  Karna stopped in front of the door without opening it and turned to face him. “If you’ve got somewhere you need to be, go. But if you need to learn how to stick your hands into someone’s soul,” she paused and glared. When Garen offered no response, she finished, “then be patient.”

  Garen nodded. She opened the door for him.

  The sunset ritual of tea and music relaxed them both. Garen chose to simply lay back and enjoy the sounds. He’d never heard music like hers before. His mother had a few music geonodes when he was a kid, but they were nothing like this. He considered asking if those were her handiwork. Garen chose to leave his mother out of their conversations. He regretted some of his first words between them about her. All that remained were unknowns better left that way.

  Garen had upgraded his cot with a thick enough hide to keep the straw from stabbing him. He laid back and tried to ignore the clutter of his mind and of the room. A broken shape caught his eye.

  He sat up straight. “I can fix it!” Garen shouted and sprung to his feet. He stood over the broken lute, eying the cracked neck of the instrument. The strings still dangled loosely between the pieces.

  Her gentle plucking stopped. “Already addicted. That didn’t take long.”

  “No, you left it there with all the broken parts so that we could repair it, right?”

  Karna set down her instrument. “I left it there because the neediest visitor in my entire life stopped by and insists I devote every second to helping him. I told you, I’d rather craft a new one. This isn’t so simple a creation as the bokken.”

  “That’s even more reason to try. It only takes a few seconds…”

  Garen lost his sense of time and place staring at the broken wood and curled strings. He closed his eyes to imagine how they might snap back together. If he thought the bokken had purpose or ambition to become great, it was nothing compared to the rise and fall of this instrument. It had resonated with the finest melodies the grains had ever heard. Every part of it bent with delicate tension. And in the prime of its life, it was silenced. It craved to be whole again. Garen wanted to place it back in the rut this world made for it.

  A small hand grasped his wrist. Garen flinched and opened his eyes.

  “I said leave it.” Karna stood over him as he sat on the floor. Her expression was resolute but not angry.

  Garen let go of the spell. He felt his shoulders drop along with all the tension and excitement in them. The splintered remains of the lute dropped once more. He met Karna’s eyes and saw a sadness he neither expected nor understood. “Some things just break,” she said. “And some things are meant to stay broken.”

  Chapter 19

  Their second week went much better for Garen. The insults were fewer and farther between, and the training felt more applicable. There were still frustrating gaps where Karna sent him on random errands. Near the end of the week she insisted he visit a specific farm due west and trade them for fresh eggs. Garen crossed the distance with the help of some light-shifts and returned that evening with all he could carry. He made careful effort to not break a single egg, lest she tell him later it had been part of his test.

  Karna barely noticed his entrance and kept plucking away at the beautiful harp in her lap. When Garen asked why he couldn’t have bought them in Russyx on his last trip, Karna answered with a distant gaze. “I figured we’d either get fresh eggs, or you’d show some spine and practice the Gate of Choice by telling me ‘no.’ Happy you went for the eggs, though. Tastier than whatever that other option might’ve led to.”

  Garen didn’t sleep well following that. The next day, he insisted she train him on the Light Spirit directly. Karna didn’t fight him on it. She dropped scraps of wood into a nearby field and brought a stool out to sit and carve the body for a new lute. Meanwhile, Garen ran the same drill over and over. Karna was critical of how inaccurate his jumps between physical and light state were. She instructed him to shift into light from one scrap to the next without stopping.

  Most often, Garen reappeared a few feet from where he intended, and he stepped over to touch it. He repeated the process. The only variation in the monotony was when Karna would set her work down to go fling one of the scraps further away. By the end of the afternoon, Garen was shifting as far as his eyes could distinguish the markers. He was still a few feet from it most times.

  His enthusiasm started high, excited to train in a way that would make him even more fearsome with a sword. He’d learned that reforming two feet the wrong direction in a fight could mean life or death. But the longer he trained, the more frustrated he grew with his consistent inaccuracy. His anger increased how quickly he shifted from one to the next. Speed didn’t help him hit the mark at all.

  Karna noticed and shouted to him. “You’re not going to get it perfect, especially not by rushing. Not today, maybe not in the next year.”

  Garen shifted closer and took a couple steps back to face her. “Then why am I even out here?”

  Karna shrugged. “I don’t know. You said you wanted to learn ‘light’ things today.”

  Garen’s eyes flung wide. “Are you kidding me? I said—”

  “Relax, I know what you said. You have your father’s sense of humor, too. This was helpful for both of us. You needed to understand intuitively what it feels like to light-shift,” Karna explained. “Because one of the most important things I can teach you is how to shift between places as a living lie. To
use the Spirit Realm as a stepping stone. Or as I called it when I was young and cocky like you, spellshifting.”

  She thinks she’s being clever. She forgets how dangerous of a path she’s leading you down.

  “Shhh, wait your turn,” Garen whispered. His aside did not escape Karna. “Sorry, she said this is something dangerous. Is she right?”

  “You can assume everything I’m showing you contains a measure of risk. This one simply includes her. But if it eases your mind, you’ve actually spellshifted three times already without realizing it. Think back to the ‘reappearing’ incidents you described for me. What do they all have in common?”

  Garen paused to think about each moment. He’d escaped the Crystal Falls in the blink of an eye and wound up in the Central Palace because of it. The second time landed him in the Outer Bog. And most recently, he’d reappeared in the Western facility and discovered the Apatten. They were all over the place on a map. Two were in the daytime, and one happened at night. He started out underground for that one, and he often ended up in closed rooms or places he’d never been. There didn’t seem to be a theme in his surroundings. He thought more about his own mental state. “I remember having a lot on my mind. Pretty heavy feelings, but none the same.”

  “Heightened emotions probably made it easier to rely on instinct, yet it’s not how you did it. What else was true each time?”

  Garen thought longer about the process. He didn’t remember doing anything with light or guiding himself into those buildings. In every scenario, he wasn’t thinking about how to get there. The only thing on his mind were the people he’d ended up beside.

  “It’s their souls I’m using, isn’t it?” Garen asked. Karna nodded. “Each time I focused on someone. First it was the Spellswords back in Vikar-Tola. The second time was Panther. And the last time it was the Earth Rogue’s daughter, Elise.” The memory of her didn’t sit well with Garen. He hadn’t seen her since the fall of Vikar-Tola. He hated considering that his rescue attempt might have cost her and her mother’s life. He kicked at the dying grass beneath him and forced the thought away with a shudder and a question. “How does spellshifting like that work?”