Feral Magic

by Nicolette Jinks

  “You were probably the smartest creature they could catch. We need to keep you here until Mordon or Barnes comes. I hope they’ll know what to do with you,” I said to her, kneeling down so I could scrounge for whatever trinkets were left. From the falling debris and yells coming from above, I could tell the fight upstairs wasn’t an easy one.

  I found a bag of charged stones—little ones, just enough energy for a very basic spell when a fresh cascade of wood splinters, dust, and vegetables fell around me, and I bumped into a booth to avoid a watermelon. The booth clattered to the floor.

  A man’s drawn-out voice slid through the air. “What are you doing here all alone? Thieving?”

  It was Gregor. Did he recognize me? He didn’t seem to. Goosebumps rose to my skin, but I refused to be goaded, instead I smiled to him. “Cleaning up. Would you care to help?”

  I did not trust his convenient timing, not so soon after the simurgh had been trapped and prevented from doing her duty.

  “I don’t believe you,” the man said, his voice cold as ice and as smooth as an eel’s belly. “You will come with me.”

  I bolted up taller. “I will do no such thing, but I will put in a good word with the judges if you volunteer to help.”

  “In stealing?” The man wrinkled his pig nose, such a dainty thing on his face was utterly misplaced with his sharp chin, profound forehead, and greased black hair.

  A cold breeze rolled over my back; I advanced on the him. “I do not believe we have been formally introduced.”

  Even for a hardened dark sorcerer, it was hard for him to deny civility when he was faced with it. It was what he was raised to do, and I made him hesitate. “No, and I do not wish it. I do not interact with creatures.”

  Creature? It seemed a bit harsh, but I played along. “Then you will not interfere with my duties further.”

  “I am going to take you to the proper authorities. Please come with me quietly.”

  I recognized the smooth flow of words now, but I did a second look, then squinted my eyes. He sounded and acted very much like a vampire, but there was something strange about him, something very alive yet dead. I frowned and took an involuntary step backwards, “What are you?”

  His eyes narrowed down at me. “Impatient.”

  Acting on instinct, I hurled the bag of charged stones at the circle. They shattered with pops of light and the circle absorbed their energy, growing smooth, elastic, and powerful.

  “Insolent creature,” the man mumbled. He raised his wand and muttered words, a red glow emanating from the wand tip. Though I felt a wind curl protectively about my body, I also felt no magic from the boy; I knew that whatever I did, he would be caught in the middle. Father’s advice came back to me, about how sometimes the best way out was a few choice words.

  “Mordon is my guardian,” I said. Each word hanging crisp, snapping through the air as though I’d yelled it.

  Gregor’s eyes darkened and he snarled. “What?”

  “Did I mumble?”

  “He has no ward, you sniveling liar,” the man spat, raising his arms again.

  “I am his ward,” I said, my heart skipping a beat at my own unplanned announcement—I managed to not slap a hand over my mouth or otherwise give evidence to weaken my claim. Gregor stared at me, glaring in anger and not willing to risk his plans over a tiff with me.

  “Give me one piece of evidence to keep me from taking you straight to the prisons,” Cole said, voice ice again.

  I raised my left hand, splayed my fingers, and pointed to the dragon ring. “This.”

  The man blinked and raised a ball of light, illuminating the sapphire. He hissed and drew back, “It cannot be.”

  “It is,” I said, faking understanding of the significance of the ring, hoping I wouldn’t say something to betray my utter lack of knowledge, “Will you leave us alone, or shall I call Mordon?”

  He snapped his teeth—they were normal teeth, not jagged like a vampire’s, but I was still suspicious—then recovered his composure. “My congratulations are in order. Give my regards to your guardian.”

  “I insist you give them yourself,” I said, challenging him to stay.

  Gregor gave me a smile that could have been a grimace. “It would be my pleasure, but I regret I must go through the remaining decks and search them.” He gave one long look at Griff’s storage box before he left. I waited until I was certain he was gone.

  I marched to the box in the wall, giving one last glance to make sure I was alone.

  Someone wanted this whatever it was in this box, and they sent a big critter upstairs to keep Mordon and the others busy while a second creature stole and made a getaway. When the creature had not returned, they sent an agent to retrieve the item. Gregor must have hoped I would run upon seeing him, or that I would be an easy person to make disappear. My news about Mordon deterred him for now, but next time I might not be so fortunate.

  I used another trinket hanging from my necklace, a seemingly decorative skeleton key I kept tucked under my shirt. No matter the lock, it would fit snugly. I slipped it in the hole and gave a couple twists, and the small door popped open. Inside there was a half sheet of notebook paper folded into a small triangle. I took it and tucked it into the heel of my sock. Then, I shut the door and locked it. I felt someone coming to me.

  Staring up at the sky, I squinted, then caught sight of movement. I sat on a crate, waiting and listening to the drum of wings coming closer and closer.

  A red dragon flashed his wings to a stop, lowering onto the walkway as though it were a plank. Three people climbed from his shoulders, sliding down a black streak. At my current angle, I saw his legs had yellow zebra stripes, and the yellow accented wherever he had black markings. His stomach and throat were golden. I walked up to meet the group, catching my breath as his golden eyes met mine and narrowed.

  Mordon snorted in disapproval.

  “Don’t give me that. I stayed here, didn’t I?” I defended, taking smug satisfaction in having subdued a creature using magical trinkets, a little of my magic, and not once did I worry about going feral. Nothing could bring me down from my feeling of pure accomplishment.

  Lilly gasped at the simurgh in the circle, then turned to stare at me with wide, green eyes. “Tell me you did not do this alone!”

  “Not to worry,” I said, “Mr. Cole came to check on me and left when he saw everything was under control.”

  “Hrmph!” huffed Barnes, inspecting my circle as well as the simurgh inside.

  Mordon frowned at me, his brows furrowed, though his disapproval was nothing compared to the glare Leif administered me. If ice daggers could shoot from his crystalline eyes, that would be happening right now.

  “And what did Gregor want?” Leif asked, keeping his tone cautiously neutral so he did not call attention on our conversation. Mordon was the only one not devoting admiration onto my fey circle.

  “He didn’t say,” I said, but Leif held me in those eyes. Mordon put his hands on his hips, making a remarkable resemblance to a husband who who was determined to get the the bottom of something.

  I was temporarily saved by Barnes musing to Lilly, “Throw a spell at it.”

  Leif looked over to them, “Don’t touch that circle.”

  “I’m ready for the simurgh,” said Barnes.

  “It’s not that,” said Leif, frowning at me, “I do not want to charge that circle any further. Fera will need to take it down, and I’d rather she didn’t get a big bolt of energy when she does.”

  In other words, he disliked how I used magic so soon and did not want a sudden rush of it to tip me back over into feral magic territory. I sympathized with him, but I also felt that I needed to practice with magic so I could use it when it became necessary. Today had been a sip of my power, nothing more, and I would not have stood up to Gregor alone without losing control. The circle had been a good, solid step, that was for certain, but I wanted to push myself.

  “Leif,” I said, “I should take it down b
efore too many spells get cast around it.”

  He sighed, then nodded.

  “Ready?” I asked Barnes. The man looked annoyed. I touched the circle.

  It was like nothing else. My fingertips tingled and quaked as raw power drained into me, filling my body with electric jolts and making my heart beat powerfully in my chest. I could feel blood coursing through my veins and air passing through my lungs, heating my muscles as though I had jumped into a hot spring from a snowbank. I could feel the air pass between my friends, swirl around rat-sized brownies stealing anything that sparkled on the floor, even the pattern of currents cutting through the marketplace. At that moment, I felt I could make it do anything. Stopping Eliza’s airflow seemed child’s play to me. If I wanted to, I could jump off the edge and call the air under me. I could fly without the need for wings. The raw energy passed, and I let it ease out of my body on one long breath. My hands shook; I hid them behind my back so Leif and Mordon would not see.

  Had I ever felt that much power before? No, I did not think so. It could be addicting if I was not mindful of it. I felt weak, and hurried to sit down before my knees collapsed.

  “Fera, are you well?” Lilly’s hand was on my shoulders and I smelled her lilac perfume.

  “Just tired is all,” I said, carefully avoiding Mordon’s gaze even though I felt his concern gnaw at the edge of my mind. It wasn’t my imagination; it was a remnant of linking our magic earlier today. He needed to be better about keeping his own emotions in check, or I might be driven batty. I had enough emotions of my own to contend with.

  Barnes’ voice rolled over me, “I will burn a letter to that one group, whats-their-names? Care for Creatures in Distress or whatever, an’ let ‘em know t’ come git this one.”

  “Very good,” said Leif, “Lilly and I will get the clean-up crews started.”

  “But, Fera—” objected Lilly, and Leif overrode her.

  “Needs rest and a solid meal, and she’ll be good as ever. Mordon, I want you to take it easy as well. I need you on par at all times, don’t worry, I can already see Grog coming out to help us.”

  I stood up on heavy legs, but they did not fail me. Mordon motioned me in the right direction.

  “Who’s this Grog they keep talking about?” I asked.

  “Lilly’s guard from before she was a judge.”

  “And you think he’s good?”

  Mordon smirked. “Trolls do tend to be.”

  “Ah,” I said, thinking of how I was going to squirrel away that stack of books in Mordon’s shop and do some reading tonight—and open up that blasted paper that was irritating my heel with every slow step back home.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  When we reached King’s Ransom, the market was already righting itself and resuming business as usual, the merchants thinking nothing of cleaning up debris from their own stalls. I gave them a wary glance before brushing past Mordon holding open the door for me. I muttered a “thank you” and stumbled when I tried to pick the books up off the floor.

  “Let me,” said Mordon, sweeping them up before I registered he was even next to me. He read the titles. “Light reading?”

  “I got light reading for you in my shoe,” I slurred. I sounded drunk. Forget that, I felt drunk and hung over rolled into a nice ball with a dose of sleeping drug stirred in.

  Mordon pitched his eyebrows in a surprised, if not confused, expression and held open the wainscoting door for me as well. “Careful up the stairs.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  I didn’t remember climbing the stairs and staggering into the breakfast nook. I didn’t even remember Mordon starting us steaks the size of my head and as thick as both of my hands put together. Mordon closed a dusty book I didn’t remember blankly leafing through, and pushed it out of the way, replacing it with a plate and a fistful of wet wipes. He cleaned his fingers and seized the rare steak in his hands, chewing ravenously.

  “There are knives in the kitchen drawer if you want serving ware,” he said. I thought it was too much effort to get up and search through the drawers, so I joined him in eating like cavemen.

  Half way through the meal, Mordon said, “You almost pushed yourself too hard.”

  “I hate being weak.”

  “What’s so important?”

  “Gregor doesn’t like me.”

  Mordon snorted and shook his head. “That man doesn’t like anyone.” But he dropped the subject.

  I was bleary-eyed, warm, and ready to hibernate again, and Leif seemed no where near ready to come home, according to the letter Mordon received once dinner was put away, so I decided to entrust Mordon with the paper that had by now conformed to the shape of my foot.

  “While you guys were fighting up there, that creature was after this,” I said, digging the triangle out of my sock and slapping it on the counter.

  Mordon accepted it, frowning. “No one has complained of missing a parchment.”

  “Not gonna hear a complaint, neither,” I said, slipping into Railey’s speech. “Cuz ‘e wasn’t supposed t’ have it.”

  “What is written inside?” Mordon’s fingers refused to unfold it.

  “Nuthin’ good, that’s for sure, my bet is it’s somethin’ that’s not supposed t’ exist.” I giggled, my voice shrill and high and entirely belonging to my mother’s side of the family. “You shoulda seen the way Gregor scattered once I told ‘im I was your ward.”

  “I thought Leif said you weren’t a liar,” said Mordon without any venom behind his voice. He smiled. “How fast did he scram?”

  “Real fast once I showed ‘im this,” I said, stretching out my hand with the sapphire dragon ring on it before that tiny voice of reason could break through the haze, yelling at me to stop.

  Mordon’s good humor iced over and he stiffened. “Where did you get that?”

  “Lilly said I needed a focus ring.” I didn’t need to explain further. He knew the rest of the story.

  “And was there a second choice?”

  I sobered up some, but my brain was still filled with clouds. “This one was too bossy.”

  His voice was carefully neutral as he said, “I see...you’re exhausted, go get rest. I’ll take care of this thing when the others come home.”

  I stood up slowly and wandered off to my suite, wishing that it was as easy to piece together what this ring meant as it was to spy on the parchment without the risk of unleashing spells.

  Once I was in my suite, I deposited the books on the cobblestone floor and dropped myself in the middle. Lilly might want to go furniture shopping, but I secretly hoped that we would not manage to; I liked the floorspace. The moon and starlight made my room bright and peaceful, and I was suddenly awake, as though Mordon’s ill humor had been a douse of water over my head.

  I might not be able to uncover what the ring meant, but I had another mystery I could solve. Setting my citrine ring on the floor in front of me, I drew three symbols in the air above it. The ring shone and glowed, then sent up an illusion of the paper. While the real paper had had several anti-spy spells on it, this method of copying was not covered.; I had not been positive it would work.

  Gingerly, so as to not break the illusion, I unfolded it one crease at a time until an octagonal paper laid in front of me. I struck my lighter and held it close, transcribing the symbols onto one of the disenchanted sheets I had slipped into my clutch. Much to my disgust, I realized I had turned into a bit of a thief.

  I need not have bothered with the disenchanted sheets I learned when I used one of Mordon’s books to translate the symbols.

  It was not an Unwritten. It was not an outlawed spell. It was not a socially-forbidden spell. It was simply a socially-unacceptable spell, detailing the conversion of a human to another shape. The spell wasn’t even completed yet, though I knew well enough the pattern of transformation spells to guess what would be needed to complete it—that is, if I knew what the human was supposed to be changing into. I thought about Gregor and his almost-human but not quit
e appearance, and I wondered what Griff was working on for him. Whatever it was, Griff had spent weeks to get this far on it. It was by far the most technically-accurate spell I could spy within all four of Mordon’s books even with the variations. Unlike all other transformation spells, this one had an astonishingly high chance of being a complete and utter success—permanently. Despicable though I found him, Griff could be a downright genius.

  Still awake, I dismissed the illusion and began to research my other questions. After reading through articles in each book and researching each discrepancy when the articles were compared to each other, I decided that my question about Death’s Merlot and magic was simply unexplored, though there was too much information about magic after a death-defying experience, and none of it agreed. Basically, every person reacted differently to living again after death. Some gained magic they never had, going so far as to switch elements, and others lost touch with it altogether. No help to my situation.