Destroying Magic

by David Meyer

  I opened the door and found myself facing what seemed like a million cool-lights. Shielding my eyes, I strode into the cavernous room. Everything was the same as before. The walls, the ceiling, the carpeting.

  The statues.

  My stomach churned as I glimpsed the drodiated witches and wizards from days gone by. They stood still and tall, frozen in time and space, monuments to an era that was all but forgotten. Could they see us? Were they hoping we’d free them? Or had their minds been turned to mush by decades of mental isolation?

  I turned toward Womigia. It was still the size of a cottage, still emitting strange energy. Jets of sparking magic crossed through it, sometimes dimming or dying out, sometimes gaining intensity, sometimes igniting still other sparks.

  Memories—big, important ones—played out before me. I saw Ayla Fodge, the fearless adventurer, hiking through lava-filled caverns on her infamous journey to the Earth’s core. I also saw sasquatches gathered on a mystical, hazy mountain. They carried torches and were engaged in some kind of solemn, silent ceremony. It was, I realized, the precursor to the famous Craggin Oodlai. Which was kind of weird, given that I’d never actually seen it. In fact, no person, magician or humdrum, had ever witnessed it. And yet, it was still a part of the collective memory. How did that work?

  I mulled that question for a moment before reaching a possible explanation. Maybe what I was looking at wasn’t the actual ritual. Maybe it was how we perceived it, shaped by centuries of fiction as well as our general knowledge of the sasquatches and their habitat.

  “Hello, gentlemen.” Boltstar stepped out from behind Womigia. His voice was low and steady. His visage lacked any trace of concern. “It’s good to see you again.”

  My lip curled even as my heart fell. I knew he had a separate way into the archive. I’d just hoped it would take him a lot longer to access it.

  “I wish I could say the same,” I replied.

  He took a step forward, his wand already moving. His posture was relaxed and his attire looked unruffled, as if he’d gotten a chance to clean up a bit since our previous encounter.

  Panic surged inside of me. Grabbing my wand, I tried to recall the exact steps required to cast Herd Crash.

  “Drodiate,” he whispered.

  Cyan light burst out of his wand. I panicked again, the Herd Crash spell on the tip of my tongue. Unable to finish it, I dove out of the way, narrowly dodging disaster.

  Putting on a burst of speed, Tad and I raced around to the other side of Womigia. Cyan jets zoomed through the air, missing us by mere inches. Meanwhile, memories continued to surge within Womigia, utterly ignorant of what was transpiring all around them.

  Sliding to a halt, I perked my ears. One second later, I heard soft footsteps. Boltstar was following us, albeit at a slow, restrained pace.

  I glanced at Womigia, focusing my gaze on the many mirrors jutting out of its sides. We’d never beat Boltstar by ourselves. No, our only hope was to shake things up. To strengthen the Chaotics’ resolve while weakening that of the faculty members and alumni. And to do that, we needed to restore the collective memory.

  Tad and I backed up slowly, in time with the headmaster’s footsteps. “Get rid of the mirrors,” I whispered. “I’ll keep Boltstar busy.”

  As he turned his attention to Womigia, I continued to back up, wand at the ready. My brain reeled through various spells before halting at Dissolate. It had stopped Boltstar’s spells back in Torso. Maybe it would work here, too.

  “This has gone on long enough, Mr. Wolf,” Boltstar called out, his voice disturbingly calm.

  “Agreed,” I replied, continuing to match his footsteps with my own. “So, why don’t you surrender already?”

  Selecting a mirror, Tad gripped it with both hands. Pulling hard, he struggled to move it. But it didn’t budge.

  “Break it,” I whispered.

  He slammed his elbow into the glass. It clunked loudly, but didn’t shatter. Uttering a silent scream, he clutched his sore limb.

  “Try magic,” I urged quietly.

  “What magic? I was skinned, remember?”

  “Yeah. But so was I.”

  His face twisted in thought. “I need a wand.”

  Looking around the room, I spotted the drodiated magicians. Many of them held wands in their stony grips. “How about one of those?”

  He gave his elbow a good shake. Then he raced to a statue. Grabbing hold of its wand, he tried to wrench it free. But it refused to move.

  Boltstar came into view. He held his wand loosely, almost casually. His derby hat was propped up just a bit, allowing me to see his swirling eyes.

  He sent a blast of magic our way. Ducking down, we beat a path around Womigia.

  Air rushed softly. Whispered voices reached my ears. Peeking toward the doorway, I saw a hoist descend to the outer shelf. Faculty members, armed with wands, stepped off it and entered the room.

  My heart fell as I caught sight of Galison and MacPherson. Wadflow and Norch, too, armed with brand new wands. To a magician, they stared at us with cold, sullen eyes.

  “It’s over, Lanctin,” Galison reported. “The Chaotics are finished.”

  “Not yet. But they will be.” Boltstar slid around the edge of Womigia. His wand moved and he uttered that one horrible word. “Drodiate.”

  A cyan bolt raced toward me. I dropped to my knees and it hurtled overhead. Something shattered and shimmering shards of glass rained down upon me.

  Eyes wide, I glanced up. A formerly-pristine mirror, one of the many embedded into Womigia, was now broken. Abruptly, the collective memory began to pulse and throb. Then the broken mirror slid out of its side and crashed to the carpet. Other mirrors, untouched by the spell, began to slide out as well. One by one, they hit the floor.

  “The mirrors.” Tad’s jaw opened wide. “Womigia’s rejecting them.”

  It occurred to me that the mirrors were akin to a precarious spider web. A single broken strand could cause the entire structure to unravel.

  The faculty members gripped their skulls, horrible looks upon their faces. Suddenly, my brain started to ache, as if a bubble was growing within it. Gritting my teeth, I fell to a knee. My hands pressed against my ears.

  My head roiled as a series of ideas fought their way into my mind. The pain lasted maybe fifteen seconds. When it finally vanished, long-held certainties came into doubt. On a very deep level, I began to wonder if the Chaotics were really all that bad after all. At the same time, complexity entered my feelings toward Boltstar and his allies. The heroes of Victory Day no longer seemed quite so pure, quite so perfect.

  Excitement surged within me. I wasn’t questioning conventional truth because of something I’d seen in a memory mirror. No, I was questioning it in my soul, in the place that knew the grass was green and the sky was blue. And that meant one thing.

  Womigia had been restored.

  Chapter 59

  It was amazing, really. All my life, I’d known the evils of the Chaotics. I’d known about the terrors they were capable of inflicting upon our world. I’d known how they’d attacked the Structuralists in cowardly fashion. And I’d known that Boltstar had heroically pushed them back and in the process, saved magic from itself. I’d known all of these things at a very deep level. So deep, in fact, that just being in the presence of a Chaotic magician like Tad had made me uneasy.

  And then, in a single moment, all of that changed.

  It was as if someone had flipped a switch deep inside of me, shedding light on long-forgotten memories. Of course, I’d known the truth ever since my first trip to the archive. But back then, I’d only known it at an academic level. Now, I knew it for real and the knowledge made me feel powerful, emboldened.

  Knees wobbling, I gained my feet. My head felt heavy, burdened by the weight of all of this new knowledge. Twisting my face from side to side, I took stock of the situation.

  Tad knelt next to me. His face was cherubic and youthful. His eyes shone brightly. Clearly, a great emoti
onal load had been lifted off his shoulders.

  Boltstar, meanwhile, stood still. He held his wand aloft in a steady grip. His eyes had a faraway look to them. His face was unreadable.

  His allies—Galison, Wadflow, MacPherson, and Norch—continued to hold their heads. Their brows were scrunched up tight. Then something happened that surprised me. Slowly at first, then much more quickly, guilt began to etch its way across their features.

  Tad and I weren’t the only ones having deep revelations. The faculty was realizing stuff as well. For the first time in nearly a century, they weren’t seeing themselves as pure heroes. Instead, they were forced to confront the horrifying reality of what they’d done to win the Philosophical War.

  I wondered what was happening in the rest of Madkey. Students, staffers, alumni, the other faculty members … they all knew the truth now. Heck, everyone knew the truth. My folks, my friends back home, everyone.

  “What …?” MacPherson’s eyes and tight-knit brows reflected confusion and anxiety. “What is this?”

  “The truth,” Tad said without a trace of pity.

  I could only imagine how wonderful he felt. After a lifetime of self-loathing, he now knew the truth at the deepest level.

  “Good God.” MacPherson began to quiver and shake. “What did we do?”

  “We destroyed the Chaotic philosophy,” Boltstar replied, snapping out of his temporary daze.

  MacPherson sank to his knees. “Think of the lives we ruined. Think of—”

  Boltstar shifted his wand. “Drodiate.”

  A cyan streak raced past me. MacPherson, head down, never saw it coming.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Wadflow looked back and forth between Boltstar and the now-frozen MacPherson. Lifting her wand, she aimed it at the headmaster. “Undo it. Now.”

  “I will,” he promised. “Just as soon as Womigia is fixed.”

  “No, no.” Norch shook her head. “We have to think about this. We have to—”

  “Drodiate,” he said, waving his wand in a well-practiced manner. “Drodiate.”

  Wadflow’s lips curled in disbelief as the spell careened into her chest. Then she went rigid.

  Norch managed to dodge the spell meant for her. But her hesitation to return fire cost her big-time when Boltstar hit her with a follow-up spell.

  Like Wadflow, she hardened into a human statue. And then she just stood there, a passive observer to whatever came next.

  Boltstar eyed Galison with distinct suspicion. “George?”

  “I’m with you,” he replied a moment later.

  Sighing, Boltstar lowered his wand. His gaze focused on MacPherson, Wadflow, and Norch. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But you’re not in your right minds right now. Once Womigia is returned to its proper state, I promise to make this right. We can go back to the way things were.”

  I wondered about that. While Boltstar could influence the collective memory, he couldn’t erase actual memories. Like it or not, MacPherson, Wadflow, and Norch would always remember these last few minutes. They’d remember how he’d turned on them, how he’d drodiated them without warning or hesitation.

  Boltstar’s normally serene face took on a dark hue. “Well?” he asked, turning our way. “Are you pleased with yourselves?”

  “Are we pleased?” Tad’s eyes practically popped out of his head. “What about you? You ruined my people. You doomed us to a lifetime of guilt and self-hatred.”

  “A small price to pay, Mr. Crucible.” He tugged his derby down over his head. The effort cast a shadow over much of his visage. “In any event, enjoy this while it lasts. Soon, it will be nothing but a distant memory.”

  “You’ve got to get past us first,” I said.

  “Very well, Mr. Wolf.” He twirled his wand in his hand. “Let’s finish this.”

  Chapter 60

  I saw his wand shift before I heard him utter the actual spell. My brain shifted back to panic mode and I darted around Womigia.

  “Drodiate,” Boltstar said.

  I saw a flash of cyan light. Desperately, I dove to the floor. I landed on my belly and the spell careened harmlessly against the wall.

  Scrambling to my feet, I pressed my back against Womigia. Despite its magical origin, it felt hard to the touch.

  “Show yourself, Mr. Wolf.” Boltstar’s voice was soft and sickeningly smooth.

  “And become one of your statues?” I retorted. “I don’t think so.”

  He passed into view again. “Drodiate.”

  A soft cyan glow cast a deadly pall over the room. Tad sidestepped the spell but got his legs twisted up in the process. One second later, he fell to the ground.

  As I stooped down to help him, I heard Galison’s footsteps coming up on our other side. We were trapped.

  Helplessness and fury boiled up within me. The emotions felt powerful, yet fluid. Like they could morph into something else at a moment’s notice.

  Before I could help Tad to his feet, Boltstar arrived. He stopped a few feet away, his wand aimed at Tad’s heart. Tad froze just as surely as if he’d already been drodiated.

  Boltstar didn’t smile. He didn’t even look all that happy. But his determination was evident.

  “Drodiate,” he uttered, waving his wand in precise, defined ways. His wand opened fire, sending a cyan spell straight at Tad.

  There was no time to recall a spell or even prepare my emotions. “Dissolate,” I responded, my wand moving in time with a symphony only I could hear.

  A spell, auburn in color, raced forth. It expanded quickly, like a hungry lion stretching for its prey. Then it swallowed up his streak.

  Dumbfounded, I stared at my wand. The spell had worked this time. But why? I hadn’t prepared my emotions or anything. In fact, I wasn’t even sure what emotions I’d been feeling.

  I realized I was breathing fast and hard. Forcing myself to calm down, I shot a glance at Boltstar.

  He arched his eyebrow. “More luck, Mr. Wolf?”

  That, of course, was precisely the problem. It was all luck. My mind swept over the last few seconds. What had I felt right before the spell? Helplessness? Fury? A bit of both?

  Yes, a bit of both. That was how I’d done it. But I’d done the same thing earlier, back in Torso, and the spell had failed to materialize. What was different about this time?

  Boltstar tucked his derby down low, shrouding his eyes in even more darkness. “And so, we find ourselves in a havoc magic duel, Mr. Wolf,” he said. “Too bad nobody outside this room will ever know about it.”

  I could feel Galison behind me, but I didn’t dare look at him. “Oh, they will,” I replied, hoping my tone exuded more confidence than I actually felt. “After I beat you, I’ll make sure the whole world knows about it.”

  His wand moved in very precise ways. “Drodiate.”

  Another spell raced toward me. Again, my emotions shifted ever so slightly. I felt tons of fury, tempered by the helplessness of the situation. My wand moved in arcing fashion, driven by the deep harmony of my emotions.

  “Dissolate,” I said.

  A fiery auburn streak soared straight and true. Once again, it swallowed up Boltstar’s magic, then vanished.

  His jaw hardened.

  Meanwhile, I stood still, enjoying the wondrous feeling of unplanned magic. It was quite amazing, really. His spell had roiled my emotions. My emotions, in turn, caused my wand to shift. I’d uttered the spell not because I was thinking about it. It had just felt right, almost as if some part of me was programmed to say it.

  His wand moved quickly and he threw another Drodiate spell at me. My emotions mixed themselves. My wand moved via instinct. And then I issued a spell of my own, dissolving his cyan jet into a cloud of harmless smoke.

  Something occurred to me. Against Tad’s advice, I’d been trying to perform Chaotic magic as if it were Structuralist magic. I’d treated it as something foreign to me, something that needed to be memorized and practiced. But was that really the best approach?

  Magi
c required exacting emotions. And exacting emotions were difficult to fake. That was why Instinctia existed. It helped people duplicate the emotions, wand movements, and words once used by the Capsudra’s inventor, Xavier Capsudra.

  But such a process didn’t exist for Chaotic magic. In other words, if I couldn’t pin down the exact emotions, the spell simply wouldn’t work. So, maybe I’d been going about this the wrong way. Maybe the Madkey method—memorization and repetition—didn’t work for Chaotic magic. Maybe the real trick was, as Tad had insisted, to just let go. To let my instincts and emotions run wild.

  Boltstar’s face twisted into one of complete concentration. He swept his wand through a familiar series of movements. “Drodiate,” he said.

  I took a deep breath.

  And let go.

  Emotions swirled inside of me, all on their own. The sudden freedom roiled me to the core. I’d spent my entire life trying to feel someone else’s emotions. Feeling my own was, to put it mildly, a revelation.

  My wand shifted, flowing with my emotions like a dancer to the sound of music. “Dissolate,” I said.

  A fiery auburn bolt swallowed his cyan streak, snuffing it out of existence.

  My emotions shifted again. I still felt a strong desire for self-preservation. But I also felt a need for justice. A deep longing to make Boltstar pay for his crimes.

  My wand twirled. My lips opened wide and I knew just what to say.

  “Pulverize,” I called out.

  Sweeping his wand, Boltstar threw up a bunch of spells. Orbs of light appeared before him, darting this way and that, constantly shifting positions.

  My spell spread out in mid-air. It stretched in every direction until it resembled a flying blanket.

  Moving faster and faster, Boltstar threw up even more orbs. There must’ve been hundreds of them, all lined up, all waiting to intercept my attack.

  The blanket careened into the minefield and the orbs detonated. They did a lot of damage.

  But they didn’t get the entire spell.

  His eyes widened as the tattered, enchanted blanket swept over him. It stuck fast to his body for a split-second, then exploded. The impact sent him reeling toward Womigia. He slammed into it, then dropped to the floor.