Spellslinger: The fantasy novel that keeps you guessing on every page

by Sebastien de Castell

  Tennat gave me a wide grin as if he had some big surprise waiting for me. I would have been more scared if I hadn’t seen him give every opponent that same look prior to each duel. Also, I was already as terrified as I could possibly be without collapsing to the ground.

  ‘Five.’

  The bird swooped overhead again so I looked up and winked at it. Tennat’s smile wavered. Evidently he was capable of simultaneously believing I was a weakling and yet had also acquired a power animal. Moron.

  ‘Four.’

  His left hand formed the somatic shape necessary for his shield spell. I’d never seen him prepare the shield before the sword. He looked down at his hand to check the form. Tennat was just a little worried now.

  ‘Two.’

  Two? What happened to three? Pay attention, damn it. Tennat’s right hand made the somatic shape for the iron attack spell we informally call the gut sword. His fingers were perfectly aligned to cause the maximum pain in his opponent. His head was still down, but it was starting to look as though he might be smiling again.

  ‘One.’

  Okay, Tennat was definitely smiling. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

  ‘Begin!’ Osia’phest said.

  The next thing I felt was my insides screaming in pain.

  Like I said, magic is a con game.

  Mostly.

  To an observer, it wouldn’t have looked as if anything was happening. There was no flash of light or roar of thunder, just the early evening light and the soft sounds of the breeze coming from the south. Iron magic doesn’t create any visual or auditory effects – that was why I’d picked it in the first place. The real fight was taking place inside our bodies.

  Tennat was reaching out with his right hand, carefully holding the somatic form: middle fingers together making the sign of the knife, index and little fingers curled up – the shape of pulling, of tearing. The horrifying touch of his will slipped inside my chest, winding itself along my internal organs. The pain it created – more slithering horror than anything blunt or sharp – made me want to fall to the ground and beg for mercy. Damn, he’s fast, and strong too. Why can’t I be strong like that?

  I responded by letting out the barest hint of a laugh and smiling effortlessly. The look on Tennat’s face told me I was creeping him out. I was probably creeping everyone out, since confident smiles weren’t exactly my customary expression.

  I let the corners of my mouth ease down a bit as my gaze narrowed and I stared straight into Tennat’s eyes. I thrust out my hand as if I were stabbing the air – a much more pronounced gesture and by all rights much too fast for an initiate like me to do while holding on to the shielding spell. Where Tennat’s hand formed the somatic shape with care and precision, mine was looser, almost casual, something few would dare because of the risk of breaking the shape.

  At first nothing happened. I could still feel Tennat’s will inside my guts, so I let my smile grow by a hair – just enough to let him see how sure I was that he was completely screwed. The painful pulling at my insides began to subside just a little as Tennat’s gaze lingered on me for several agonising seconds. Suddenly his eyes went very, very wide.

  That’s when I knew I was going to win.

  The other reason I’d chosen iron magic even though I couldn’t wield it myself was because when a mage uses the gut sword to attack, he has to use a second spell – the heart shield – to protect himself. But it’s not a shield the way you might think of a big round thing that acts as a wall. Instead, you use magical force to maintain the shape and integrity of your own insides. You have to picture your heart, your liver, your … well, everything, and try to keep them together. But if you start to panic – say, if you think the other mage is beating you and nothing you’re doing is working – you can inadvertently compress your own organs.

  That was how Tennat had beat Panahsi. That was how he’d hurt him so badly, even though nobody but me – not even Tennat himself – had realised it. Pan had been trying so hard to protect himself that he’d actually ended up crushing his own internal organs. Now it was Tennat who was so convinced that his spells were failing that he was pushing them too hard. I was still in blinding pain, but I’d expected it. I was ready for it. Tennat wasn’t.

  He struggled for a while, increasing his attack on me even as he unconsciously tore at himself with his own shield spell. I felt my legs shake and my vision start to blur as the pain became too much for me. It had seemed like such a good plan at the time, I thought.

  Suddenly Tennat stumbled out of his circle. ‘Enough!’ he shouted. ‘I yield … I yield!’

  The fingers of his own power disappeared into nothingness. I could breathe again. I tried my very best to keep my tremendous sense of relief from showing on my face.

  Osia’phest walked slowly over to Tennat, who was on his knees gasping. ‘Describe the sensation,’ our teacher demanded.

  Tennat looked up at the old man as if he were an idiot, which was a fairly common impression of our teacher. ‘It felt like I was about to die. That’s what it felt like!’

  Osia’phest ignored the belligerent tone. ‘And did it feel the same as with the other students?’

  A jolt of fear ran through me as I realised Osia’phest was testing his suspicions. Tennat looked over at me, then at the old man. ‘It … I suppose not at first. Usually it feels hard, like a strong hand grabbing at you, but with Kellen it’s different … worse, like tendrils insinuating themselves all around my insides. By the end I could feel him crushing my organs.’

  Osia’phest stood in silence for a long time as the breeze picked up and drifted off again around us. The other initiates were still staring at me, wondering how someone who hadn’t broken any of his bands had beaten the best duellist in our class. But they’d all seen Tennat falter and heard him describe what sounded like someone being overwhelmed by superior magic. Finally Osia’phest said, ‘Well done, Kellen of the House of Ke. It would appear that you’ve passed the first test.’

  ‘I’ll pass the other three too,’ I declared.

  I did it, I thought, as a surge of joy erupted inside me. I beat him. I won. No more spending hours and hours staring at the bands on my forearms, praying without success to break the bindings between the sigils to spark them. No more sitting awake at night wondering when I would be sent away from my family home, doomed to become Sha’Tep and take a position as a tradesman, clerk or, ancestors help me, Tennat’s personal servant.

  A few of the other initiates applauded. I doubted any of them other than Panahsi and maybe Nephenia had wanted me to best Tennat, but among my people? Let’s just say everyone loves a winner. Even Tennat bowed to me, with about as much grace as you’d expect given the circumstances. I hadn’t hurt his standing in the trials. Every initiate was allowed three attempts at the duel and he’d already won several.

  ‘All right,’ Osia’phest said. ‘Let’s have the next pair and—’

  ‘Stop!’ a voice called out, cutting off our teacher and, with more force than any spell I could imagine, shattering everything I had done and everything I would ever do. I watched with a sinking heart as my sister pushed past Osia’phest and strode forth to stand in front of me, hands on her hips. ‘Kellen cheated,’ she said simply.

  And, just like that, all my hopes and dreams came crashing down around me.

  2

  The Betrayal

  Everyone was staring at me, waiting for an answer to the charge that my own sister had just levelled at me. My mind, not good for most things but usually quick to come up with a wide range of excuses, bluffs, and out-and-out lies, failed me. It wasn’t as if I couldn’t have made something up (Shalla’s possessed by a demon! Mine is the secret eighth form of magic! The council of mages sent me to test all of you! It’s a dream! You’re all dreaming!) but what possible explanation could I give that wouldn’t be tested by simply having me retake the trial, this time with someone who wasn’t going to be fooled by my trick?

  I did the thing
that you should never do in these situations. I looked at the faces of the people around me, hoping someone would intervene. If there’s a surer way of demonstrating one’s own guilt, I haven’t encountered it. Oddly it was my teacher, Osia’phest, who tried to come to my rescue. The old man put on an annoyed expression and waved a dismissive hand in the air. ‘Girl, I may be forced to allow you to be part of these trials, but I am not required to let you interrupt them. Go bother Master He’met.’

  ‘But he’s cheating!’ she said, pointing at me. ‘Kellen’s not even doing the—’

  ‘Shalla, get out of here,’ I said between gritted teeth. I tried to signal her with my eyes. Please. If you love me at all, let it go.

  If she caught my meaning, she gave no sign of it. Shalla crossed her arms and stood there as if she were about to hold her breath until she got her way. ‘He’s cheating, Master Osia’phest. He didn’t cast any spells.’

  Tennat, who was not yet aware that Shalla had long ago decided he wasn’t quite impressive enough a mage to become her lover when the time came, took the opportunity to put a hand on her arm and give her a patronising smile. ‘Trust me, Shalla, I was there. Your brother—’

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ she said, shaking him off. She pointed at me again. ‘Kellen’s not doing the spell. He just made you think he was, and you fell for it because you’re an idiot. He convinced you that he was winning and tricked you into turning your own power against yourself. It’s almost clever, but it’s not magic.’

  They turned to look at me. Panahsi. Nephenia. All of them. Tennat’s expression was uncertain and I could tell he was trying to relive the experience and decide whether or not his feelings had been real. Some of the other students started to snigger a bit, not sure quite whom they were laughing at.

  The ruse had been so simple that no one could have expected it. But now they all knew. Why couldn’t you have let me have just this one thing, Shalla?

  Osia’phest frowned, his eyes strangely soft as they caught mine. He already knew, I realised. He’s known all along. But why didn’t he say anything? ‘Very well,’ he mumbled. ‘I will have to take the matter up with –’

  ‘He can do the spell if he just tries harder,’ Shalla interrupted, stepping into the circle Tennat had occupied moments before. ‘You don’t need tricks, Kellen. You think you do, but that’s only because you don’t believe in yourself.’

  Despite how betrayed I felt, I almost laughed. She thinks she’s helping me! I realised. This is Shalla, trying to make me into the man she believes I ought to be.

  ‘You can do it,’ she insisted. ‘I know you can. You’re the son of Ke’heops! You’re my brother, not some Sha’Tep weakling. Prove it to them. Show them. Now!’

  She reached out and suddenly I felt her fingers around my heart. Stop, I tried to say, but nothing came out. She was attacking me, just as fast and hard as Tennat had done. But this time I wouldn’t be able to trick her into defeating herself. I had to try to fight back with whatever real magic I had inside me. My left hand formed the somatic shape of the shield, four fingers curled closed in front of my chest and the thumb extended, as I tried in vain to draw on the power of the oasis. With the inks of the iron band flat and dead around my right forearm, I couldn’t summon enough. Spark, I commanded the tattooed bands. The coloured metallic inks briefly glinted in the sunlight, mocking me. Spark. You will light! I’m the son of the most powerful mage in the clan. I can do this. Spark, damn you. Spark!

  The pain of Shalla’s attack continued unabated and I cried out. Even seeing me in agony didn’t lessen her will in the slightest. She was so sure that I was as powerful as any of them, that big enough stakes were all I needed to shake me from my weakness. ‘Find the stillness, Kellen,’ she murmured. ‘Let it flow.’

  Despite how angry I was with her, I did try. I tried to be still the way the masters taught us, but all I could feel was the force of Shalla’s will crushing my heart. Oh ancestors, this is really starting to hurt now.

  ‘Come on, Kellen,’ Panahsi urged.

  I poured everything I had into my shield – every shred of will I could muster and more. I pushed at my limits. I pushed beyond them, tearing through the barriers like parchment. The bands were still there, but I didn’t care any more. You want to see my will, sister? Well, here it is, you stupid, arrogant, mean-spirited wretch. Here’s all of me.

  All at once, I felt the stillness, the emptiness. Is this what the masters go on about? The ‘deep silence of the mind’?

  But the silence wasn’t in my mind – it was in my body. I had stopped breathing some time ago … why had I stopped breathing? The answer came to me as my knees buckled and I felt myself falling to the ground.

  My little sister had just stopped my heart.

  3

  The Grey Passage

  Among my people the space between life and death is called the grey passage. It is a shadowy place where every mage must one day await the three thunders that will summon him to the judgment of our ancestors.

  This isn’t fair, I thought, watching the world tilt before me as I fell backwards like a blade of grass freshly cut by a gardener’s scythe. Bad enough that I was dying, but did it have to be in such a completely humiliating way, killed by my own sister? I hadn’t even turned sixteen years old. I’d never kissed a girl. In fact, I hadn’t done much of anything with my life yet. There would be no tales of grand accomplishments with which I could purchase my place in the afterworlds from our ancestors, the first mages.

  I heard a loud thud, which I assumed was my back hitting the sandy ground of the oasis. I tried (somewhat heroically, from my perspective) to draw in breath. Nothing came.

  I thought about lying to the ancestors – making up stories in which I’d fought fiery mages to the death or saved small animals from harm, but I suspected that deities were actually quite difficult to trick, and besides, lying hadn’t been working out that well for me lately.

  The revered elders of my clan tell us that reincarnation is the penalty the gods levy for the sins of a life poorly lived, and the punishment is to come back somewhere lower on the ladder of life, as, say, a rat or maybe a small fern. But just as I hadn’t achieved anything yet, neither had I committed any great sins. So, as my body settled into the sand beneath me, I came to the inevitable conclusion that I was about to traverse the grey passage only to be sent back to start all over again as a somewhat sickly Jan’Tep initiate possessed of almost no magic. Please, please don’t let me die like this.

  The elders would have chided me for such insolent thoughts and reminded me that the grey passage is a time of peace and warmth, when the dying mage hears the soothing sounds of music and the voices of those he admires most praising his name.

  Me? I heard screaming.

  It came from every different direction. Osia’phest was loudest. He bellowed for the other initiates to get out of the way and then launched into a spell which, if I heard it properly, had many of the same syllables as the one cooks use to keep food from spoiling. Osia’phest is a kind old man, but he isn’t exactly the most powerful mage you’ll ever meet. His voice was shrill and desperate, which is a bad way to start out since the high magic requires complete calm and perfect focus.

  Get up, I told myself. Breathe. Osia’phest is going to end up preserving you like a dried apricot. Get up!

  Panahsi was shouting too, calling out for someone to find one of the healers. I think he had even less faith in Osia’phest’s abilities than I did.

  One voice was quiet and almost soothing. Nephenia was calling out to me. ‘Try to breathe, Kellen, just try to breathe.’ She repeated the phrase over and over as if she might persuade me through repetition.

  Dearest Nephenia, you’re not doing me any good at all, I thought. Try a kiss, maybe that will get my heart started. At least it’ll give me something to tell the ancestors. I would’ve laughed at myself if I’d had the requisite bodily function to do so. Who knew that even dying couldn’t put a stop to teenage lust?

&
nbsp; ‘His skin’s going grey,’ someone said. That set off even more shouting.

  In among all the noise, the one voice I didn’t hear was that of my sister Shalla, though I swear I could hear her breathing.

  When we were children and shared a bedroom, I could always tell when Shalla was having nightmares. Her breath would go in and out in this peculiar pattern … fast and shallow, as if she were racing up a hill. Listening to it now gave me an absurd impulse to hold her hand and comfort her the way I did when we were kids – when neither of us had any magic and we would stay up late at night talking about how powerful we’d both be when we grew up. I liked her better in those days. She probably felt the same way about me.

  How long has it been since my heart last beat? I wondered. A minute? Two minutes? How long can you survive without something pumping the blood through your veins? And if this is the grey passage, why does it seem to involve so much standing around, figuratively speaking?

  The elders promise that visions will appear to the dying mage of those he loves best, and who love him in return. That too turned out to be something of an exaggeration. All I could see now was a burning ember that remained perfectly still. It’s the sun, I realised. When I’d hit the ground, my head had landed facing west, and now I was staring straight into the last light of the sun with unblinking eyes. That explains the burning sensation anyway.

  On the positive side, the fact that I was aware of anything despite my heart’s not beating suggested that Osia’phest’s desperate spell might be doing something useful.

  The amber light became a blur that slowly resolved into the sight of Shalla kneeling in front of me. Some of the pain in my eyes subsided. She’d had the presence of mind to realise I was going blind from staring into the light. As her face became clearer her expression settled into one of fear and sorrow and … something else. Disappointment. She killed me and she’s actually disappointed in me for dying.

  I felt strangely calm. I suppose that made sense, since the symptoms of panic – pulse racing, rapid breathing, or profuse sweating – all required a beating heart.