by Laurie McKay
He held his arm up for Tito. “I have only the smallest of magical talent, and it does this to me.”
“It’s sand. Strange glowing sand, but sand.”
“Dry magic sand,” Caden said.
“Dry normal sand,” Tito said, and stepped into the clearing. “Watch. No magic quicksand. No nothing.”
Caden watched like he’d been told, crossed his arms. “You’re sinking,” he said.
Tito was buried halfway to his calves. He sank faster than Caden had. Caden felt his mouth twitch in quick irritation. Even in a mostly magicless land, everyone had more magic than him.
Tito finally seemed to notice he was being pulled into the earth. “What the—” He struggled like he was stuck in the web of a Mandan death spider and dropped to knee-deep. Perhaps Tito would believe now.
Caden considered the trap. When he had found Brynne stuck, no drop of moisture seemed to penetrate the magical clearing, and the sand had dissipated as they’d stepped into the rain. Even now, in the cold crisp night, the air inside the clearing was dryer than that around it. No doubt the trap had a barrier to protect it that deflected water. He looked at the bottled water he’d brought. As the water within them was contained by dry bottles, he should be able to bring them past the barrier. He was right about that, wasn’t he?
“Hey!” Tito said. “You gonna leave me in the weird mountain quicksand or what?”
Caden snapped from his thoughts and tossed him a water bottle. “Pour it around yourself.”
Tito scrunched up his nose and uncapped the bottle. “Water’s gonna save me from the weird sand?”
“I’m almost certain,” Caden said.
“Almost?” Tito grumbled, but he dumped the water around him. For a fleeting moment, it sat damply atop the sand. Then, with a soft glow, the water and sand disintegrated into golden smoke.
Caden threw another bottle to Tito. “Keep pouring.”
All the sand vanished. Tito was left standing in a waist-deep, dry pit, which was strange. Caden was certain the trap had pulled Brynne deeper than that. Tito climbed up the side and sat on the edge. The golden smoke hung over them. The wind blew, the trees around them rustled, and the smoke furled down the mountain.
“Whoa,” said Tito, catching his breath.
“Ritual magic.” Caden sat beside Tito and pointed his empty bottle at the trap. “It’s always attached to a place.”
Shadows of branches crisscrossed Tito’s shirt. His brow was furrowed; his mouth was turned down. “Okay, that was weird. But magic?”
“Your disbelief is simply denial.”
Tito looked like he was beginning to doubt his own resolve. “I dunno . . . ,” he said, peering into the dark grove.
It seemed odd that there was no one—no animal or person—freed from the trap along with Tito. Few animals were as clever as Sir Horace. Certainly, some creatures should have been snared by the trap. The missing remained missing. Caden scanned the hole. There were faded marks at the bottom, scratches left in the dirt. It was possible they’d been symbols at one time. He felt his frown deepen.
Ritual magic was a magic of sacrifice and exchanges. It was the darkest of the magics. Only masters of the magic used it to much avail, but with the proper ingredients and symbols, and a lack of morals, any fool could attempt it. This trap, however, seemed to have been created by someone with skill.
In the books that towered on the blue and gold shelves of the Winter Castle’s great library, there was no record of Rath Dunn ever doing ritual magic. He certainly seemed patient enough, conniving enough. But he wasn’t one to dig holes and scratch symbols in the dirt. He was one who manipulated others into doing such things. Caden toed the dirt. “This seems unlike Rath Dunn.”
“You think? Well, your craziness, maybe that’s because Mr. Rathis isn’t—”
“He’s evil.”
Tito shrugged and kicked at the remaining normal, nonmagical dirt. “Speaking of evil,” he grumbled. “You waited long enough to help me; I’m starting to think you deserved to be cursed.”
“He’s a royal pain,” Brynne said.
Caden took a deep breath. Again, she had caught him off guard. She stood over them. Her skin glowed with the moonlight. Her hair moved with the cold northern wind.
Beside him, Tito gaped. His mouth hung open; his eyes were big. Quickly, he recovered. “I’m Tito,” he said, and stood. “Wow.”
Caden didn’t bother with introductions. He stood and glowered. “Remove the curse you placed on me,” he said. “Now.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It doesn’t seem you’ve learned your lesson yet.”
Caden had learned plenty. He grabbed her by her shoulders. “There’s no time for these games. Our lives are at stake.”
She looked down at his hands. “Remove them,” she said, “or lose them.”
It was close enough to an order that Caden was compelled to obey. He took a deep breath and released her. “Rath Dunn is in Asheville.”
She drew her brows together. “What?” she said. “That can’t be.”
“Yet, it is.”
“You’re making that up,” she said.
“I don’t make things up.”
That she knew to be true. Her silvery eyes widened and she bit her lower lip. “He’s supposed to be dead.”
The fear in her voice made the danger feel closer, more sinister. “He doesn’t know about you,” Caden said. “He doesn’t even know you were born, and he doesn’t know your parents were paid to fight against him.”
Beside them, Tito tensed. His gaze was fixed in the hole. Before either Brynne or Caden could stop him, he jumped back into it. “It’s Jane’s necklace,” he said, climbing out with something clenched in his hand.
Brynne looked at Tito’s fist, and her interest was clearly piqued. “That belonged to the missing girl? Are you sure?”
“I’d know it anywhere. She made it.”
“Let me see,” Brynne demanded.
Tito hesitated.
“Jane is his friend,” Caden said. He opened his mouth to say more, to tell her not to steal it, but she cut him off.
“Sit,” she said. “Keep quiet.”
Caden sat back down. He kept quiet.
Brynne cast him an amused look before turning back to Tito. “Let me see the trinket,” she said, and held out her hand.
Tito glanced between her and Caden. “Um. You’ll give it back to me, right?”
“Of course,” Brynne said. “I’m not that type of thief.”
Caden scoffed—like there was more than one kind.
Brynne took the necklace. She sat beside Caden on the cold earth and turned it over. The chain was interwoven wires of delicate copper and pewter, and resembled a vine. Hanging from the chain was a pendant of strange stone, black and glassy. She handed it to Caden. It warmed his hand, unaffected by the winter air.
“She never took that thing off,” Tito said, and plopped down beside them.
“I suppose she wouldn’t,” Brynne said. “She made it?”
“Yeah, this summer.”
Brynne chewed on her bottom lip like she was in deep thought. “Someone who could make something like this is very special.”
“Can’t disagree with that,” Tito said and kicked at the dirt, his cheeks turning pink. “But, look, she bought that rock at the mall and she got the wires from the art supply store.”
Brynne motioned to the necklace. “It’s a protective amulet,” she said. “The necklace is enchanted, and it’s undocumented. No one in recent history can do enchantment or item magic like this. Not until now. Not until your Jane.”
Undocumented? Caden had researched protective amulets before. This was the first he’d seen up close; the first he’d ever held. In Razzon, there were one hundred and twenty-six known magical items. All priceless. His coat was number one hundred and twelve. It seemed he held a new item between his fingers.
“Huh,” Tito said. “You’re supposedly a sorceress. His royal hig
hness says the trap is magic. Why are you so surprised by an enchanted necklace?”
“Because it’s enchantment. Look, there are three types of magic.” Brynne pointed to the trap. “The magic in the pit was ritual magic. It’s attached to a place.” She scrunched up her nose like she was repulsed by the thought of it. “It’s the darkest of magics and requires sacrifices of blood and soul—but never of the practitioner, always of the innocent.” Tito paled a bit, but Brynne seemed not to notice. “With instructions and the right materials, anyone can attempt it, and too many do.”
“I take it ritual magic isn’t your type of sorcery,” Tito said.
“Ritual magic isn’t sorcery at all.” She sat up straighter. “Sorcery is magic of the mind. It requires study and concentration. It’s attached to people. It’s one of the great disciplines of the Greater Realm and by far the most respected.”
There was little respectable about sorcery. Caden couldn’t speak, because he’d been ordered not to. But he could again scoff, and did.
Brynne cast him a glare but continued. “It’s people magic. It takes both talent and discipline. That’s sorcery, that’s my magic,” she said, and puffed up. “Enchantment is the third type—the magic of items.”
Caden held the necklace to the moonlight. Carved into the dark stone, he saw the image of a great tree. Great trees had a special significance in the Greater Realm. While the Winterbird protected the Winterlands and people of Razzon, it was the Walking Oak that rooted in the Springlands and kept watch over the men, gnomes, and elves there. Of course, there were many trees in Asheville as well, and this might have been one of them. It might not have meant anything.
Or maybe it did.
He handed the necklace back to Tito. Tito took it quietly, put it on, and tucked it beneath his shirt. The necklace—magic item number one hundred and twenty-seven, the missing girl’s amulet of protection—disappeared beneath the cotton. Things needed to be said. Caden needed to say them. He poked Brynne’s shoulder and pointed to his mouth.
“What?” Her thoughtful expression turned sly. “You want a kiss?”
Even now she toyed with him. Caden blushed and shook his head. He pointed to his mouth again.
She leaned toward him like she might actually kiss him. He felt his heart begin to race and his ears turn hot. Then she laughed and pulled away. “Fine,” she said. “Talk, then.”
Beside him, Tito snickered.
Everything about Brynne, these people, and this situation was frustrating. Caden was tempted to kick nonmagical dirt at them both. Instead, he straightened his collar. “We thought Asheville was a place devoid of magic, but I do not think that is the case. Brynne and I were pulled here by dark magic. Rath Dunn teaches math at the school. There was a ritual magic trap in the mountains and an amulet of protection that belonged to a girl who is now missing. There is magic here—that is certain. We must find how these things are connected. Then we will know why we’re here.” Then, they could find their way home.
And if Jane was indeed an enchantress, and it seemed she was, there was more Tito needed to know. Jane was his friend. From Tito’s reactions to her name, there was no doubt she was dear to him. Caden glanced at Brynne. She stared down at her hands, seemingly watching shadows play across her slender fingers and likely troubled by similar thoughts.
Tito glanced between them. “What?” he said.
“He’s your peasant,” Brynne mumbled. “You tell him.”
“Tell me what?” Tito said.
Tito deserved the truth. Caden raised his chin. “All magics have their price. Ritual magic requires blood. Sorcery drains energy.” He gave Brynne a pointed look. “More than one foolish sorcerer or sorceress has fallen to exhaustion and not awoken again.”
At that, Brynne glared. “I know how to handle it.”
That was an argument for another time. He turned back. “To enchant an item a person must pay the price in years of life. Enchanting even one item drastically reduces lifespan.” He patted his sleeve. “It’s rumored he who made my coat fell at a mere seventeen turns.”
“Uh-huh, right, then why would anyone do it? Because I’ve got news for you, Jane’s smarter than that.”
Caden and Brynne exchanged looks again.
“She must have been very desperate for protection,” Caden said. “Enough that she had no other choice, and the trap must have been particularly attuned to her, and powerful, when it ensnared her.”
The question that hung in the air was, protection from what?
Tito fidgeted and looked from Caden to Brynne. “So your sorcery drains your energy, but Jane’s enchanting drains her life?”
Brynne looked back at her hands. “I’m sorry, Tito. But no known enchanter has lived more than twenty turns.”
“Let’s say I believe you,” Tito said. “Maybe Jane should just stop enchanting crap.”
“That seems unlikely,” Caden said.
Brynne seemed to agree. “I’ve never heard of an enchanter not enchanting,” she said. “It’s what they do.”
“The bigger question,” Caden said, “is why does a normal Ashevillian girl know so much about magic?”
They sat for a moment. The chill in the air cut deeper with the silence. Finally, Caden spoke. “Rath Dunn is evil,” he said. “What if he trapped and took Jane?”
Brynne seemed to consider this. “If she was indeed an enchantress, she, too, might have recognized him for what he is. It would explain the amulet of protection.”
“Why Jane?” Tito asked.
“Enchantment is rare magic,” Caden repeated. “We will discover the reasons for his treachery. We will get her back. But we must be clever. We must use care.” He turned to Brynne.
“First, though, you must remove the curse.”
She arched a brow. “Ask nicely,” she said.
Two hours later, the half-moon was covered by clouds. The temperature had dropped. The air smelled of snow, and Caden was still cursed.
“Try again,” he said.
Brynne touched his chest. The burn radiated out to his arms and legs, his fingers and toes. He fell to his knees.
Caden looked up at her. “I felt something.”
She nodded and looked hopeful. “Fall backward.”
Immediately, Caden obeyed her order. His hope shattered as his back hit the chilled dirt. He slapped the ground with his palms. “Try again,” he said.
Tito leaned against a nearby pine tree. He had his arms folded across his chest and he yawned. “You know,” he said, “I don’t know much about magic, but this doesn’t seem to be breaking.”
Curses could always be broken. “It’ll break,” Caden said.
Brynne looked thoughtful, then away. She was oddly quiet.
Caden got to his feet. “I’m ready.”
When she turned back, for a fleeting moment she looked guilty. “There might be a problem. This curse might not break,” she said.
The time she’d spelled him with a tail, she’d undone it. The time she’d turned his eyes from brown to purple, they’d faded back to normal within an afternoon. “Of course this one will break,” Caden said. “All curses do.”
She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “It’s your fault,” she said.
Caden didn’t like her guilty tone, didn’t like the way she wasn’t making eye contact. He especially didn’t like the way her words sounded irritated but she was twisting her hands like she was worried. “What’s my fault?” he said.
“My magic is strong,” she said. “And sometimes my control is lacking. And you’re annoying.”
Caden really didn’t like this. “What are you saying?”
“She’s saying you’re screwed,” Tito said. “She can’t fix you.”
“I can’t be stuck like this for another day,” Caden said. He poked Brynne square in the shoulder. “Fix it, witch.”
“I can’t.” She shifted and looked down. When she looked back up, she looked ready for a fight. “And if the curse won�
�t break, it’ll reoccur.”
“Wait. What?”
“For two days, as the half-moon rises so shall your compliance be complete.” Softly, she added, “It was an accident.”
Forced obedience for two days during each waning moon for forever was unfathomable. How could he serve his father and his kingdom? He’d be a weakness. He could be used against his family, his people, and his kingdom.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but Caden was in no mood to forgive her.
They trudged back to the house. Once there, Tito insisted they sneak Brynne inside, and that they enter from the ground floor window. Caden pulled through first. He landed quietly on the planked floor. Inside, the television murmured something about impending snow. He turned to help the others and froze. Leaning against the side wall, Rosa stood, arms crossed and brow arched.
Brynne dashed out of sight. Tito paled. Caden squared his shoulders and raised his chin. “It’s completely my fault,” he said. Rosa led them wordlessly, angrily, to the couch. Tito sat beside Caden, hunched over and quiet. A single lamp lit the space, and the fireplace glowed with embers from a faded flame.
On the television, an image of Sir Horace’s magnificent rump flashed. The volume was low, but Caden heard something about “a beautiful white horse seen near the edge of Pisgah National Forest.” Caden sighed. Sir Horace did enjoy exploring new lands. Asheville and this Pisgah Forest were no exceptions, but he’d return soon enough.
“Look at me, Caden.” Rosa flipped the television off. She’d said that already. She’d said other things as well, but Caden had soon lost interest. She moved in front of him, her hands on her hips. “Am I boring you?”
“Very much so,” Caden said.
With a glower, she paced in front of them in a purple robe. It pooled around her feet in great velvet folds. She glanced out the window like she sensed Brynne’s presence but couldn’t quite latch onto it. Finally, she fixed her gaze on Caden. “What did you think you were doing?”
It wasn’t an order, so Caden kept quiet.