by CM Raymond
A thin stack of papers covered in intricate lines and numbers. The plans for Adrien’s warship. It was all foreign to her eyes, and she couldn’t make sense of any of it. But she knew someone who could. Her job was to get it to him.
She blinked back into the room and reached for the top cabinet. She pulled as hard as she could, but the magitech lock wouldn’t budge. It was time to try the riskiest portion of their plan.
While preparing for all of this, Gregory had taken the time to explain magitech in detail to Hannah and Ezekiel. While the young noble wasn’t very good at magic, he had a wicked smart understanding of how things worked. Every piece of magitech was fueled by an amphorald core, that was in turn charged with energy by a physical magic user. The larger the core, the more powerful the device—but even small amphorald cores could contain a punch. Normally, that power was then channeled outward in a safe manner, powering the machine. But, if the core became compromised... the whole thing could blow.
That was the key to Gregory’s master plan—use the magitech lock to break the safe.
Hannah spread her arms outward like she was preparing to dive, then brought them close to her body and pushed them toward the safe. Gingerly, she placed her hands upon the smooth, cold metal. Her eyes flashed red, and the metal soon followed suit. Heat from her hands radiated into the thick door of the safe. Hannah could produce a tremendous amount of heat; the rage inside of her after the death of her brother fueled it. But burning through a safe like that was out of the question. It would take hours—if she could sustain it.
Luckily, the magitech lock was located within the outer door. It was the first place the heat from her hands would travel to.
Sweat covered her brow, and she gritted her teeth as the physical magic she was using began to drain her. She knew that if this didn’t work soon, they’d be in trouble.
But Gregory knew what he was talking about.
A low-pitched whistling began emanating from the safe—like a teakettle after the water has begun to boil. Then smoke started to pour out from the safe’s seams. That’s when Hannah knew she had done it.
She darted away from the locker and ducked behind the desk just as the core exploded. The bang was louder than she had expected, but no shrapnel or anything. Gregory had warned that the explosion might be violent—but probably not.
When the smoke cleared, she saw the safe as it was before—largely intact—except its door hung wide open.
She smiled. You’re a damn genius, Greg.
Hannah ran to the safe and grabbed the plans. She rolled them up and slid them into the hidden pocket that Eleanor and Maddie sewed into the side of her dress. She closed the broken safe as best she could, replaced the secret panel, and turned to the door.
There was a mirror on the far wall of the office, and Hannah caught a look at herself. Her hair was brown and disheveled, the red in her eyes was fading, and she was covered in sweat. But she was herself, and it made her smile.
She took a breath, focused on the image, and then once again, she was the beautiful nobleman’s daughter.
****
The hallway was still quiet, and Hannah retraced her steps back toward the main dance hall. Even the lovers had finally calmed down behind the door in the middle of the hall. She hoped that they hadn’t heard her break in. She was exhausted from the huge expenditure of magic, and she wanted nothing more than just to go home.
But as she turned to descend the grand spiraling staircase toward the second floor, a voice interrupted her.
“What the hell are you doing up here?”
Her heart leaped into her throat, and Hannah spun to find Morgan, the know-it-all douche rocket from her physical magic course.
“Just checking the place out,” she said. “It’s larger than my damn house, and that’s saying something.” Hannah smiled big, hoping her dimples would win the day.
“I’m sure everything here seems big to a country girl like you,” he leered. “The men are bigger here, too. Not that you would know it, hanging around that limp-dick, Gregory.”
She froze, swallowing the bile in her throat. She forced a laugh. “It’s a fair arrangement. He helps me with my studies; I let him twirl me around the dancefloor.”
“I bet you two do all sorts of dances together.”
Hannah stepping in close enough to smell the ale on his breath. “Why, Morgan, exactly what kind of girl do you think I am?”
“I know exactly what kind of girl you are... it just so happens to be the kind of girl I like.” His eyes wandered up and down her body. She had to fight the urge to shudder.
“Hey, what’s that?” Morgan asked, pointing at the roll of paper sticking up through her dress. In her haste, she had forgotten to secure it. “Is that—”
She placed her index finger on his lips to quiet his question. “That’s nothing. Just some notes that Gregory promised to pass me. Like I said, we have an arrangement. He really is good. With magic, I mean. But there are just some things that... well, how did you put it? ‘A bigger man’ might be able to help me with.”
As she said it, she moved her hand down from his lips to his arm. She gave his bicep a squeeze.
“Well, in that case,” Morgan whispered in her ear. “You should come by my dorm room sometime. I’d be more than happy to give you some private lessons. I’ll show you how things are done in Arcadia... You can show me a bit of your countryside.”
“Why wait?” she smiled, this time it took no effort at all. “I’m sure we can learn a lot from each other right now.”
Hannah grabbed his hand and led him back down the hall. Within a couple of tries, they found an empty guest room. The magitech lights snapped on as they entered.
“Hope you know how to shut those off.” Hannah nodded to the bulbs along the edges of the ceiling. She backed him up to a window seat that overlooked the city.
“So,” Hannah said with a smile, “tell me more about the Academy. How do I make sure I pass along to the second year?”
Morgan laughed, his eyes looking her up and down in her evening gown. At that moment, all Hannah wanted to do was get as far away from any of the noble monster as possible. But she had more pressing matters to attend to.
While he prattled on, she tried to get inside his mind, trying to erase his memory of seeing Elon’s stolen plans. It was a long shot—Julianne had only scratched the surface of explaining this kind of magic before she left, and Ezekiel wasn’t exactly the best at it. Still, Hannah had to try. Once word got out that the plans were missing, she expected Morgan to go running straight to the Chancellor.
“You don’t have to worry about passing,” Morgan said as he leaned back on the window sill. “Girard is your freaking father. You could shit the bed on exams and make it, no problem. They control magic, remember? And people like us, we’ve got nothing to worry about. Always been on the inside, always will.”
We’ll see about that, she thought. She pried deeper in, past the filth that was really on his mind. But she was exhausted, and it was hard to focus.
Morgan grabbed her hands and pulled her toward him so that she stood between his spread legs. “But enough talking, how about that private lesson?”
Hannah sighed, it was looking like brainwashing wasn’t going to work. Morgan was just too focused.
“On second thought, maybe now’s not the best time,” Hannah said as she inched back. “Plus, Gregory is probably waiting for me.”
He laughed. “Let him wait. I’m the one with the goods. And you’re exactly my type.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” Hannah said, her voice as cold as ice—exactly how she felt. She tried to pull her hands away, but Morgan was strong, and he wouldn’t let go.
“Ooh, a feisty one. Most of the other girls don’t resist, but I don’t mind a little foreplay first.” He pulled her in closer.
Those words. They were almost the exact words that the Hunter said to her in the alley, on the day that changed her life forever.
&nbs
p; She had made a vow that day, one that she was prepared to keep.
“Get your damned hands off me,” she yelled.
As she spoke, the power beneath her skin rushed around her body, sending a chill up her spine. Her eyes flared red, but her hands began to freeze.
Morgan released her and shook his hands. The cold hurt. “What the hell is wrong with you? And your eyes...”
Magicians’ eyes in Arcadia never turned red. She had shown him a bit of her true self, and that kind of knowledge in the hands of the wrong people could have disastrous results. Since brainwashing was out of the question—she knew of only one other method to ensure his silence.
She let her mental magic change her appearance. No longer was she “sweet Deborah.” Her face took on the appearance of a demon—exactly the way Ezekiel looked when she first saw him.
“You wanted to get to know the real me?” she asked, her voice now sounding like a low growl. “Well, here I am. I am Hannah, the Bitch from the Boulevard. And I am not someone to be fucked with.”
As Morgan’s eyes widened in fear, he opened his mouth to scream. But Hannah was too fast. With nothing but cold hatred rushing through her body, she raised her hands and threw them forward. Ten needle-like daggers of ice shot from her fingertips. They sunk in across his body, landing on his face and chest and groin.
The force of her attack drove the nobleman backward. He screamed, but it was soon lost to the sound of breaking glass and rushing wind.
As her red eyes faded back to brown, she looked up.
Morgan was gone.
On the day that Hannah had first done magic, she swore that no man would ever touch her like that again. As she stared out the shattered window into the night sky, she knew that she had kept her promise.
And justice was sweet.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The three men traveled back to Arcadia in silence. Hadley spent the time thinking about Hannah. Parker thought about Hadley—and Hannah. And Karl mostly just stewed in silence over the state of his fellow rearick.
Their response should not have surprised him. Karl loved his people and knew that deep down, they were good, honest, and loyal folks. Nevertheless, the life of relative opulence provided by their trade with the Arcadians had lulled them into a life of compliance.
Grinning, he thought of the old days, when he followed Krayton into battle in the Madlands, expecting certain death—and welcoming the glory of it. Nothing had shaped him into who he was more than those days of fighting for his fellow rearick—and for all of Irth. Something deep inside told him he could be like Krayton—the strong and charismatic rearick that called his brothers to arms and led them to victory.
All this trip afforded him was a head wound from a bar brawl and the company of an airy-minded mystic.
Hadley finally broke the silence. “We all go on pilgrimage a few times during our lives. Sometimes it’s short—just around the Arcadian Valley. But sometimes, mystics travel as far as they can, meeting people all over Irth. Two of my brother mystics, Volney and Larick, decided to go as far West as they could. No one’s heard from them in months. Who knows, maybe they’ll never return. But despite the risks, it’s worth it.” He paused as if waiting for one of the other two men to ask a probing question. When he was met with silence, he continued. “I went on my first one when I was still pretty much a kid. Had the delight of going with Selah, our old master. He was the one that Ezekiel had trained in mystical arts in the first place. Leaving was tough, but it was important.”
Nothing inside of Parker wanted to interact with the mystic, but his curiosity was fueled. “So, why’d you go?”
“Selah taught that we went for two reasons. First, it was our responsibility to find and recruit those that belonged in the Heights with us. We’d travel to the furthest reaches of Irth to find new mystics. Most pilgrims would come back alone—there aren’t many like us in the world, but a few times a year, someone would return to begin the monastic life.”
Karl grinned. “Took time to find other mindnuts, huh?”
“Yeah, you could put it that way.” Hadley laughed. “We know we’re a peculiar bunch, rearick. We’ve made peace with that. Our peculiarity drives us to a life of reflection and contemplation that connects us with the world—both inside and out—in ways that your brethren would never know.”
Reminded of why he was so sour, Karl only grunted. It was the wrong day to argue the point.
“Why else did you go?” Parker asked.
“Something Selah always taught, and I think he learned it from Ezekiel, was that to excel in the mystical arts, one must remain connected to the world around them, if even only on occasion. Our magic influences minds, and only by spending time among other minds can you really push yourself. Staying in one place your whole life—it’s bound to make anyone close-minded—mystic or otherwise.”
The party fell back into silence. Parker thought about his own firmly rooted life. Maybe this mystic was right after all. The world was a big place.
After an hour of the journey, Hadley finally asked, “So, how’s Hannah doing?”
Karl and Parker looked at him, both with narrowed eyes. Hannah had become, in ways, like a daughter to the rearick. Their bond had become thick through bloodshed and lives saved. He would protect her from boars, and remnant, and from mystic men.
Parker had his own reasons for suspicion. He cleared his throat. “She’s fine. Just fine.”
Laughing, Hadley replied, “I bet she is. Damn, she’s strong. If those Arcadians know what’s good for them, they won’t mess with her. Is the mental magic working for her?”
“Well enough,” Parker said.
“What does that mean? Has she been able to veil herself from the world? Are they buying her illusion?”
“Aye,” Karl said. “The lass’s got some skills. Besides the way she curses and kicks ass, I’d never know she was raised on the Boulevard.”
“Nice. You guys know I trained her, right? She picked things up faster than any mystic I’ve seen. Some think she could be more powerful than Julianne—maybe even Selah—if she had time to commit herself to the practice.” The mystic trailed off, losing himself in the thoughts of his time in the Heights with Hannah. “That sort of training… it’s so, well, intimate. It’s like you get a piece of you inside of them and—”
Parker’s face grew red, and he nearly burst at the seams. “Could you just please bloody stop? It’s a long walk back to Arcadia. I suggest we spend that time in meditation.”
Hadley opened his mouth to respond, then saw the look of murder on Parker’s face. The mystic kept his thoughts to himself, but the way he smiled made Parker wonder if he was giving Parker the same luxury.
Damn mystic, Parker thought. Why the hell do we need him anyway?
“Because I’m good,” Hadley said with a smirk. Then he skipped ahead of them down the road, whistling as he went.
****
Doyle glanced over his shoulder. His men all walked behind him since the horses—except for Doyle’s—were being used to drag a large, strange object. It was the artifact they had pulled out of the ice. It took two horses to pull the weight of the device from Cella. The little city’s Governor was happy to supply the transportation they required. Working for Adrien had its advantages.
While he didn’t exactly know the thing’s purpose, he could only assume it was important—important enough to send he and the Captain of the Guard on the mission. As they approached the gate, Doyle couldn’t help but smile. He felt like a victorious general of old, riding into the city with his spoils of war. But the feeling didn’t last long.
“Hey, Captain—” a soldier at the gate pointed at their load and yelled “—heard you pulled that shit from a frozen hell single-handedly!”
The men surrounding the Guard clapped for their Captain, but Stellan knew enough to wave them off. “Took a lot of hands to find her and even more to bring her home, but thanks, gents,” he responded with a grin. “Now, get yer lazy ass
es back to work!”
Even with Stellan’s acknowledgment, Doyle flushed. The Guards talked more than a damn noble ladies’ sewing circle. Word must have spread throughout the Capitol already, and Doyle knew that he might not be taking the credit for the successful mission.
But then he wondered to himself, If Adrien was so damned suspicious of that bloke, why send him along with me in the first place? Doesn’t make sense unless he trusted me to flush out a traitor.
His eyes cut to the Captain riding in silence. The man had been the one to find the artifact. And he designed a way to get it out of the ice. Why would a traitor go to all that work? Unless he wanted to get close to Adrien. Doyle bristled at the thought.