Forsaken by Magic: A prequel novella (The Baine Chronicles: Fenris's Story Book 0)

by Jasmine Walt

  “All the more reason to use this opportunity to try it out,” Iannis insisted. His violet eyes gleamed with a thrill I identified with all too easily—it was the same thrill I experienced whenever I tried out a dangerous new spell. “Just think, Polar. If the spell was successful, you would become a bona fide shifter and could live openly. Nobody in their right mind would ever guess at the truth. It’s the perfect disguise.”

  “A permanent disguise,” I reminded him. “And what mage would want to live as a shifter?” The very notion was ludicrous.

  But the wheels in my head were already turning. Could this spell actually work? I really wanted to find out, even if it would likely be the last thing I ever did.

  “And so what if it’s permanent?” Iannis argued. “Death is permanent as well. What do you have to lose if the spell goes wrong or if you decide you don’t like living as a shifter? You have already gone this far in your rebellion, Polar. Why not take advantage of this one last opportunity, together?”

  “It would certainly be a fascinating experiment,” I conceded, excitement pumping through my veins. Iannis’s enthusiasm was becoming infectious. “I don’t believe the spell has ever been attempted on a mage before, has it? Only on ordinary humans. Do you think it will even work, or might there be some kind of horrible reaction due to my magic?” The idea was both chilling and intriguing.

  “I am not certain,” Iannis said. “Perhaps your magic will somehow make you a stronger shifter, able to change forms more easily or have heightened abilities. Or your magic will simply dissipate forever in the heat of the spell. It is impossible to know until we try.”

  “All right.” I sucked in a shaky breath. “I’ll agree to let you experiment on me with the spell. But you must promise me one thing, Iannis.”

  “Anything.”

  I looked him square in the eye. “If this goes wrong, you must kill me. No hesitation, no attempts to reverse it or do any further experiments. I want a quick, painless death.”

  Iannis’s eyes dimmed with sadness, but he nodded. “I give you my word.”

  “Excellent.” I pushed back my chair and stood. “So, where do we begin?”

  10

  It took us two days to find a suitable animal to use for the transformation. Changing a human into a shifter wasn’t just a matter of chanting the right Words—according to the scroll, the spell combined a human and an animal into a single body. The idea of joining my muscles and organs with another creature’s made me feel a bit nauseous, but since I did not expect to survive, it hardly mattered. I forced my emotions aside and trekked through the woods with Iannis, searching for something suitable. I was hoping we might run across a fox, as I had no intention of becoming a rabbit or a squirrel. And the idea of being a deer wasn’t thrilling either.

  “There,” I murmured, pointing to a hill through the trees. It was pitch dark out, but we’d used a spell to enhance our night vision, and the sliver of moonlight from the crescent moon was enough to spot the young wolf standing at the top of a small hill. He was a majestic creature, with yellow eyes and a thick brown pelt, his powerful body completely relaxed as he surveyed his surroundings. A scout, I figured, since he was not with his pack.

  “Good choice,” Iannis said, nodding his approval. He extended a hand, and orange light shot out from his palm and hit the wolf square in the chest. A twinge of guilt hit me as the wolf toppled sideways from the force of the stun spell, but there was nothing for it—we needed an animal for the experiment. And if I risked being stuck as a shifter for the rest of my life, a wolf seemed as good a choice as any. Not that the spell was likely to work at all—or that I was actually planning to live on as a shifter. No mage would care to, let alone a former Chief Mage. But even if it was only for a day or a week, better as a wolf than as prey.

  We carried the unconscious wolf back to the hunting lodge, then cleared a space on the floor of the sitting area and laid the animal down. He was surprisingly heavy for his size, due to dense muscles, I guessed. Iannis instructed me to lie down next to the wolf, and I turned to look into the animal’s yellow eyes. Even in his present immobile state, they were fierce, predatory eyes that sent a chill through me, though I knew the wolf couldn’t hurt me now. Would I soon be looking out of those eyes? Or would they be closed forever? I had already resigned myself to the likely failure of the experiment—these spells required enormous power, power I doubted Iannis could muster, and by all accounts had usually been performed by more than one mage.

  “Relax, Polar,” Iannis said calmly, as he used a spelled chalk to draw runes into the wooden floor. I wondered where his steady confidence came from—and whether the utter illegality of the spell he was about to attempt bothered him at all. This was a side to him I had not seen before. “I will put you to sleep before the spell begins. You won’t feel a thing.”

  “I know.” But my chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as I listened to the scratch of chalk against wood. Iannis took his time drawing the runed circle around me and the wolf—if even a single rune was out of place, or he mispronounced a single word, the spell would fail. When it was finished at last, he stepped into the circle. I turned my head to him as he knelt down, and stared into my friend’s rock steady gaze. By the Lady, what were we doing? Why had I ever agreed to this madness? But too late to draw back now, and it was not as though I had anything left to live for.

  “It is time,” Iannis said gravely, taking my hand in his. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded, a lump in my throat. “Please don’t forget to deliver that letter to my parents,” I whispered, squeezing his hand tight. I knew the Federation officials would never tell them the truth, so I’d written them a long letter explaining what had happened and apologizing for bringing them so much heartache. Iannis had promised to deliver it upon my death.

  “I won’t need to,” he said, pressing a hand against my forehead. He murmured the Words to the sleep spell, and a heaviness settled over my limbs, my chest, even my eyelids. “See you soon,” he said, his face blurring before my eyes. And then I was gone, faded into darkness. A darkness I would never wake from again.

  “Polar.”

  Iannis’s voice tugged at me from the deep, dark place I was resting in. It sounded far away, as if through a thick wall, and my mind immediately shoved the sound aside. It was so peaceful here . . .

  “Polar. It’s time to wake up.”

  A hand squeezed my upper arm, and my eyes popped open. Hissing, I shielded my face from the sunrays bursting into the room—my eyes burned and pain stabbed into my forehead.

  “Sorry about that.” I heard a chair scrape back, then the sound of curtains being drawn along the rod. “I forgot your new eyes are stronger, more sensitive. It will take you some time to adjust.”

  “New eyes?” I cautiously opened said eyes again, memories suddenly rushing back to me. “What new eyes? Are you saying that the spell worked?” I sat up, then froze as the bedsheet slipped down to my waist. I was naked . . . and my body looked completely different. Dark hair matted a muscular chest that was a far cry from the slim frame I’d once possessed, and that same hair coated my significantly thicker forearms. Running a hand up my left arm, I flexed the muscles and felt thick biceps twitching beneath.

  “My shoulders,” I muttered, sliding my hand up and across them. “They’re wider than I remember.”

  “Yes. Your body composition has changed significantly, rather more than I had expected.” Iannis conjured a mirror and handed it to me. There was an excited gleam in his eyes, though he tempered it with his serious expression. “Brace yourself.”

  I took a deep breath, then looked into the mirror. “By the Lady!” I exclaimed, taking in my new face. My long, blond locks were gone, replaced by short, dark hair. I’d always had somewhat of a thin, aristocratic face, but now I sported a square jaw roughened with stubble. My cheekbones were wider, my lips fuller. And my eyes . . . they were that same yellow as the wolf’s, with barely any white showing, and they held a feral
gleam that startled me.

  At the sight, another presence, part of me and yet not, lifted its head and snarled in my mind. How very odd—I felt its anger and confusion.

  It’s all right, I said, reaching out to the strange presence. This must be the wolf I had joined with. The wolf bristled at my initial attempt to connect with him, but on the second try, he calmed a little. There was more to being a shifter than the ability to change form, I realized.

  So this was how the humans our ancestors had used for such experiments had felt.

  My stomach rumbled with sudden, intense hunger. Hungry, the wolf said. Need fresh meat.

  I flinched. The wolf could actually speak? Or had I automatically translated his feelings into language, now that we shared one brain? How would he feel if I decided to end this experiment?

  A strong wave of anger and disapproval from the wolf washed over me. Hmm. That was something I had not reckoned on.

  “Ah, yes,” Iannis said, standing. His motions seemed unusually slow to my new eyes, as though time was now stretched out for me. “You’ll need proper nourishment after your ordeal. Put something on and come out to the dining room.”

  Iannis left me alone in the bedroom, but I didn’t move right away. Instead, I pushed the sheet down my legs and examined the rest of my body. My skin was tan, covered all over with a light dusting of dark hair, and muscles flexed everywhere I looked. But the muscles were the least of the changes. I could smell everything. The sweat that clung to my body, the detergent that was infused into the sheets, the light lemony scent rubbed into the wooden floor. Iannis’s scent, which I had never noticed before, lingered in the air—a combination of sandalwood and a strange, burnt-sugar scent I didn’t know. The colors in the room were so much more intense—the logs in the walls seemed redder, the sheets whiter. I could count the individual pores in my skin, if I looked long enough. The heightened sight was strange, because as I understood it, wolves and dogs were color-blind. Perhaps it was a side-effect of my magic?

  My magic. Did I still have any?

  I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to know the answer just yet. Shifters had no magic except the ability to change and heal. They were most often afraid and hostile to it, and shifter-mage hybrids were almost unheard of.

  It was highly likely that I didn’t have magic anymore, and the thought was crushing. Magic had always been so much a part of me that losing it would be unbearable. Well, it was all part of the experiment. I would not have to bear it for long.

  At that thought, a dangerous growl rose to my throat against my will. The wolf did not care about magic, but he was interested in survival.

  Best to know for sure, even if the news was bad. I tried a simple levitation spell on the chest of drawers across the room. To my delight, the piece of furniture lifted easily, and I let out a whoop of laughter. I still had magic! I tried transforming the chest into an ostrich. The chest began to morph, but something in my stomach seized, as if I was putting too much strain on a muscle. Panic sliced through me, and I yanked my magic back.

  Okay, I told myself. There are limits to my magic. The realization that I had lost at least half of my magical strength was disappointing but not crippling. I still had some power, after all. I could deal with this.

  My stomach rumbled again, reminding me of my hunger. Abandoning my experiments, I shrugged on a robe, then joined Iannis out in the hall. My body felt strange as I moved—these new muscles were mine, and yet not. And was it just me, or had I shrunk a few inches? Passing through the doorway confirmed that impression. No matter—I had towered over most people earlier, and if I was now barely above average height, that would make it easier to blend in.

  I walked into the dining room, where Iannis was already seated, then paused at the sight of the plate he’d set out for me. “Raw meat?” I echoed, staring at the slabs of beef. “I’ve eaten rare steak before, but this is going a bit far.”

  “Trust me,” Iannis said. “You’ll be wanting this right now. I did a bit of research—newly transformed shifters do best with raw in the beginning. Pause for a moment and focus on how you feel. Does the sight revolt you?” He raised an eyebrow.

  I stared at the meat, surprised when my stomach rumbled even louder. Saliva pooled in my mouth, and suddenly the raw beef looked like the most tempting meal I’d ever seen. Was the wolf imposing his tastes on me?

  “It looks fantastic,” I said, sitting down at the table. A knife and fork were laid out next to the plate, but instinct seemed to take hold, and I didn’t even glance at them. The wolf inside me growled in appreciation, and an electrical charge ripped through me as I reached for the meat. Claws shot out from my fingertips, and I hissed in pain as fangs suddenly elongated in my mouth, slicing into my own flesh. But hunger outweighed the pain, and I snatched up the meat and tore off a large hunk.

  Iannis said nothing as I tore through the steaks—five in all, huge cuts of ribeye. Blood rushed down my chin and my hands, staining my robe, and part of me knew I should be embarrassed about eating like an animal. But I was so hungry, and the meat tasted so incredible.

  “Excellent,” Iannis said when I’d finished. My cheeks grew hot as I realized how I must look to him, but there was no hint of judgment in his eyes. “I suspect you’ll be ready to try shifting for the first time this afternoon.”

  “My word.” I lifted a hand to run it through my hair, then stopped as I remembered it was covered with blood. The wolf inside my chest perked right up at the thought of shifting to his old form. He had understood the concept right away. How clever was he?

  “This really is happening. I’m not a mage anymore.” A bleak note echoed in my voice—the first wave of excitement was fading as the stark reality of the situation hit me. I hadn’t expected to survive the experiment, so I had not truly considered what I would do should it prove successful.

  “You are still the same person you always were,” Iannis said sternly, “just with a new body and a different set of abilities. I tested you while you were unconscious—you still have magic, though it is not as powerful as it once was. You will learn to adjust to your new circumstances. Think of it as a challenge.”

  “It’s just . . . it’s all so overwhelming.” I stared down at the bloody plate in front of me in dismay. “I just ate five steaks, and I’m barely full.”

  “Shifters have a higher metabolism and require more food in general,” Iannis reminded me. “Like I said, it will take time to adjust. But you will. And I will be here for you the entire time.”

  Guilt twisted like a knife in my gut as I met Iannis’s compassionate gaze. “How can you be so calm about this?” I demanded. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t think this would actually work. Now that it has, I am living proof of our transgression against the Great Accord. You will be executed too, should anyone ever find out what you have done. What we have done.” I shot to my feet, agitated. “Perhaps I should kill myself after all.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Iannis growled, coming out of his chair. He grabbed me by the arm and hauled me around. “Not after we’ve come this far. You’ve been given a second chance at life, Polar. Are you really going to waste it just because things seem scary and new and difficult to you? What would Resinah say, if she could see you now?”

  Iannis’s words hit me in the chest, and I stopped my crazed train of thought. “She would call me a coward,” I murmured, flooded with shame. I’d studied Resinah’s teachings since childhood—she strongly believed in taking responsibility for the consequences of one’s magical actions, regardless of the outcome. I had willingly chosen to turn myself into a shifter. Killing myself would not be taking responsibility for what I’d done—it would be trying to escape it.

  And didn’t I owe something to the wolf whose life I had taken over without leave? Before the transformation, I had not even considered that aspect; he had been a mere animal, disposable. But now that I felt his feelings, had taken over his senses, that attitude seemed callous and wrong. The wolf clearly want
ed to live, even in this new form. Perhaps he was smarter than the mage.

  “We will both own this,” Iannis said quietly, “together. You’ll come stay with me while you get on your feet, until you know what path you will follow in this new life. A shifter who can do magic is almost unheard of, Polar. Just think of all the possibilities!”

  I cracked a smile as excitement entered my friend’s voice once again. “That is certainly true,” I said, clasping his arm in return. “I would not dishonor you by taking my own life after all you have done. I apologize for suggesting it. And I will take you up on your offer of lodgings—I have always wanted to explore the Canalo Mages Guild library.”

  “And so you shall,” Iannis declared. “But first, we ought to come up with a new name for you. Polar is dead and gone, and I cannot simply bring you back to the palace as my pet wolf.”

  My wolf snarled at the word “pet,” and I scoffed. “I should think not,” I said, sitting back down. “I would never consent to being your pet.” I fell silent as I searched for a name, riffling through my mental collection of fables and legends that I’d read over the years. There were many heroes of old that I could choose from, lauded in poetry and song, and yet the only one that really stood out was an old myth about a wolf who represented ultimate fierceness and strength. I would need to borrow some of both qualities if I was to survive this surprising new life.

  “Fenris,” I finally said. My wolf seemed to approve, and I smiled, liking the sound of it on my voice. “My new name is Fenris.”

  To be continued…

  Already read the Baine Chronicles? Find out what happens to Fenris after SCORCHED BY MAGIC in FUGITIVE BY MAGIC, Book One in The Baine Chronicles: Fenris’s Story!