by Nichols, TJ
He didn’t give a shit about the correct use of magic, but he believed everything should be kept in balance. He didn’t really care who was in power in Vinland as long as they weren’t screwing it up for everyone else.
Maybe he was just fighting for himself and the right to live his life the way he wanted. In that case, he was doing a shit job of that too.
Suddenly the hairs on his arms drew tight and the temperature dropped.
He lifted his gaze to the green, boiling sky as a flash tore across. He shielded his eyes with his hand, and the familiar feel of magic tingled across his skin as though he were raising power. It had been so long that he gathered it to him just to feel the rush. The scar on his chest warmed and then burned.
Then the breath was taken from his lungs.
His back hit the glass door, and the building shook like the magic-laced air was trying to pulverize him.
Panic made him throw up a circle in defense, but it wasn’t enough. Sirens and alarms were going off. Then as quickly as it had hit, the wave of magic started to recede and drag everything with it. The magic Angus had pulled to himself wanted to flow out of his body.
That was not a good thing.
Nails scratched the inside of his veins trying to tear all magic from him. It hurt worse than Demonside slowly draining him, but the result would be the same. He resisted and used everything he had to keep the magic within him. When his body wasn’t strong enough anymore, he reached out to the building, to the magical dampeners and the wiring beyond. Light bulbs hissed and cracked, and the building shook like it was being ripped in two.
His teeth were going to be pulled from his head, and his nail beds ached, but if he let go, even for a breath, he was dead.
Whatever was happening was trying to kill him by taking the magic that was part of him. He hadn’t survived for this long to be taken out by some kind of storm. He pressed his nails into his palm deeply enough to cut. Drawing blood didn’t bother him anymore. His own had been spilled so often. He peeled himself off the door long enough to run his palm and his blood over the railing to create another line of defense.
The dragging sensation faded. The building still quaked, and other buildings did too. It was as though the ground were trembling.
Was there a spell in the storm to harvest magic?
His breath came in hard pants, and he was on his knees by the time everything went still and the sky brightened to pink. Alarms echoed across Uxmal, and his apartment was ringing as the dampener screeched its warning.
His head was ready to split open, and red stained the front of his shirt. He peeled it away from his skin to see that the mark Saka had carved into him had been torn open.
Around him, the metal and stone glowed. He should go inside, but it was too noisy in there. He’d be better off trying to heal himself outside. Something hot and sticky hit his lip. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, not surprised to see more blood staining his skin.
He lay down on the warm, glowing patio to rest.
That he was alive seemed amazing, but if that storm happened again tonight, he would be fucked.
Chapter Seven
Saka held the telestone in his palm. He wanted to speak to someone back at Lifeblood, to know how his tribe fared—not that they’d ever let him be their mage again. No tribe would have him. They’d never trust him.
They might be right.
Was he still putting Arlyxia first, or just one human?
Angus hadn’t tried to summon him in two days. He should be glad, but he was concerned. He’d know if Angus were dead… wouldn’t he?
Wek returned with two small, scaled animals with strangely naked tails. They were good eating even if they looked odd. “I didn’t see anyone. Maybe they’ve stopped searching.”
For the first few days, he’d worried that Iktan would find him and drag him back to the doorway so Kabil could make a bond. But that hadn’t happened. Either they weren’t looking for him or they didn’t care, neither of which seemed right. There was something else going on.
“I have placed a few more stones.” While she hunted, he’d walked all day to place another stone and then return.
They would need to make a decision soon—leave the place they’d come to for refuge or stay.
If he was far enough away from the doorway he could answer Angus’s summons, but Angus wouldn’t be able to come to him, or he’d be stuck in Demonside. The Mayan solution of having an anchor wasn’t entirely without merit. He hadn’t lied when he claimed they’d spoken of inviting Terrance into their bed—though neither of them had thought of what it might mean beyond that.
He didn’t want to dwell on what might be happening with Terrance. Perhaps that was why Angus hadn’t contacted him.
Wek started to skin the creatures. “Did you want to try and reach Tapo?”
Saka put down the stone. “I do not know anymore.”
Wek put her hand over his, her fingers slippery from the animal’s fat. She opened her mouth, but the words never came out.
They were swallowed in a sudden cloudless deluge of bitter-tasting rain.
Chapter Eight
In the mess hall, plates rattled off the counters as an alarm sounded. Water bounced in Terrance’s glass. Panic blossomed and was fed by confusion. He felt the tremor in his chest as though someone or something were thumping him on the back. One of the other pitz players—a man who was sure to die in his first game—ran to the windows.
Terrance didn’t get closer to the glass in case it blew in or out or otherwise shattered. Beyond the glass the sky was a bruise, green and sick with shadows of purple. Nothing good could come from something that looked like that. He’d never seen the sky such a peculiar shade. And the vibrations in his chest hadn’t stopped.
“Do not go outside. It is not a quake,” a female voice called over the speakers.
Terrance had no desire to go outside. The building was protected. He’d felt the magic as soon as he’d arrived. Out there was just the toxic sky and whatever it had brought.
“There’s someone out there,” the man at the window said.
The man outside staggered toward the building. Blood streamed from his nose and ears.
No one moved to help him. They’d been ordered to stay in. At the training school, it was best to obey orders. It was a sports camp taken to the extreme. Everything they ate and did was scheduled, every workout and training session logged. He’d expected a disorganized mess given that some of them would die—why waste time and money on the soon-to-be dead?
But that wasn’t the way training was viewed at all.
The person outside fell to the ground, motionless. Then the tremors stopped, and the clouds rolled away and returned the sky to the pinkish spill of sunset.
The alarm shut off, but the ringing echoed in Terrance’s ears, and the beat of his heart was still too quick. Something big had happened, but he didn’t know what.
The mess was silent. No one moved, even after they’d been given the all clear.
“Can we go out now?” someone asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer. The man walked toward the door and pushed it open when no one stopped him. Then he crossed the ground where they did their morning sprints to kneel by the man’s side.
Terrance hoped the wounded man was alive. He didn’t know why, when everyone at the school knew there was a good chance they’d die. Some volunteered themselves, and some were criminals who’d been given a choice. Terrance probably fell into the latter category.
The man who’d run outside picked up the body and brought him in. “He’s alive.”
Sighs of relief filled the air, and talk resumed.
Terrance sipped his water. His mouth was dry, like he’d been in Demonside too long. “What was it?”
All heads turned toward him. His fair skin marked him as an outsider, but for the most part, no one had held it against him. They were all there to play. But now there was a prickle of animosity.
“That was a Vinnis
h magical weapon.” The speaker glared at him as though Terrance were responsible.
“Clean sweep they call it,” someone else said.
“Knocks out anyone outside and kills those with magic in their blood. He was lucky he didn’t have magic.”
Terrance swallowed. If he’d been outside, he’d be dead. From the way they were looking at him, it was best they didn’t know that. Next time they might shove him outside, regardless of orders. “I’m sorry.”
There was nothing else he could say.
He couldn’t leave the mess until he’d eaten his required nutrients, but no meal had ever tasted so awful. He was sure he would pay for the Vinnish clean sweep tomorrow during training.
Chapter Nine
The heat from the stone balcony seeped into Angus’s skin. He opened his eyes, and for a moment, he couldn’t work out why he was lying down and why he couldn’t breathe through his nose.
He pushed himself up, but his head felt like it was the size of the moon. The sky had darkened to inky black, but the building was glowing. He wiped at his nose, and dried blood came off on his hand. There was blood all around him and smeared on the railing and doors.
There was magic everywhere.
It pulsed in the building like a living thing. Magic should naturally gather in places, but it hadn’t here. No magic had gathered in his apartment the whole time he’d been in Uxmal.
The scar on his chest burned as though it still held magic, and blood was seeping out of his skin. He placed his hand over the wound to heal it, but then he hesitated. The magic was all around him. He could use it, but he wasn’t supposed to.
Screw that and Cadmael’s rules.
His skin cells divided and knitted to heal the scar. It had been torn open by whatever had happened, and that wasn’t a good thing. He healed the cuts on his palm and then made sure that the blood vessel in his nose wasn’t going to spring another leak.
Insects buzzed around him, drawn by the blood and magic-created light, and he squashed them as they landed on his skin. He wasn’t ready to get up, but he didn’t want to be eaten alive either. With a grunt and far too much effort, he grabbed the bloodied railing and pulled himself up. It took a moment for him to feel steady.
The apartment door swung open. Cadmael was wild-eyed and looked ready to kill. He strode through the apartment toward the balcony. Angus curled his fingers and drew magic to himself. He really wasn’t in the mood for the priest’s shit, nor did he want to fight.
The two soldiers remained by the entrance as Cadmael opened the glass door and closed it behind him, giving the illusion of privacy, even though the guards were watching. “What did you do?”
“Me? What was that… that storm?” He didn’t even know how to describe what had happened. “It was trying to drag the magic out of me.”
“You were outside when the clean sweep hit?” Cadmael’s face became a mask of horror.
“Yes.” That seemed like the correct answer. It was also the truth.
“You should be dead.”
Yet here he was only feeling like death. “I held on to the magic.”
“How?”
When they had first entered the Mayan Empire, he’d had a medical exam. The doctors had seen the scar, but hadn’t asked about it. “I used a focus, and when that wasn’t enough, I used the building. What is the clean sweep?”
“That is the weapon your Warlock College has made.” Cadmael paced closer. “Nonmagic users become incapacitated. Magic users get the magic and life sucked out of them.”
“Where does the magic go?”
“Back to Vinland. With every strike they injure the population, kill those who would stand against them, and gather more magic.”
The weapon his father had hinted at was real and terrifying. He shouldn’t have survived, but he had, although he felt bruised inside and out. He really wanted to lie down, yet he also wanted to celebrate. Later. While Cadmael was talking, Angus wanted information. “You’ve been hit before.”
“A different city, smaller and on the coast. The Nations have been hit too. That is what you’re fighting against, what we are all fighting against.” Cadmael put his hand on the wall, and Angus was sure he saw the wall pulse. “You resisted somehow.”
“I wasn’t going to get dragged out with the tide.”
Cadmael nodded. “You do realize that you have fried the building’s circuits? It was designed to prevent magical buildup, and you have… filled it.”
“Would you rather I died?” His life was a terrible inconvenience to so many, though he was starting to enjoy being such a disappointment.
“Usually this magic is funneled through the temples. We have priests on duty all the time in case of an attack.”
“But they can’t get it all.”
“We get what we can to stop Vinland from becoming stronger and to return magic to the demons. But it’s not just one strike. We’re getting reports that several countries have been hit tonight. They’re already backing away from the sanctions and giving Vinland what they want—anything to stop Vinland from targeting them.”
Vinland was bullying everyone. Without strength in numbers, no one would stand against them. “That won’t stop the ice. The weapon has to be stopped.”
“With every strike we’re able to learn more about the weapon and where it originates.” Cadmael glanced at him. “You healed yourself. You can help to heal others.”
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to do magic.” He was still waiting for Cadmael to issue some kind of punishment to him for frying the building and surviving.
“I’m making an exemption. The hospitals will be overflowing with injuries. Clean yourself up.”
Angus was tempted to refuse, but he wanted to get out and see how magic was actually used. More than that, he wanted to use magic. He missed the feel of it flowing through him, so he nodded. “How many magic users are dead?”
“We don’t know the official numbers, but you saved the ones living in your building.”
Angus allowed himself a grim smile. He got no thanks or praise, but he hadn’t expected any. He went into the bathroom and closed the door. The walls cast enough of a glow for him to see by, so he took a moment to examine the remains of the damage. He looked worse than he felt, considering how close to death he’d been.
Had Terrance been outside at the time of the strike? If he asked, would he be told? Or did Cadmael not even know? There would be more important people to worry about.
Terrance was either alive or dead.
Angus chose to believe that he was alive, because the other option would shatter the fragile calm he was holding on to.
Why weren’t other countries doing something? Attacking back? Anything? From his little balcony, it seemed that the Mayan Empire was doing nothing but watching people die. He pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the shower floor so he could clean the blood off his chest. The scar was smooth beneath his fingers, and the skin glinted as though flecked with metal, the way it had since Saka made his mark.
He was sure that if he tried, he could erase Saka’s claim on him, but he didn’t want to. And the mark had been useful more than once when he needed to anchor magic. He scrubbed his skin and face and tried to be ready to face Cadmael again. That he was being asked to help was either a sign of trust or desperation, but he was hoping it was the former.
In his room he dragged on clean pants and shirt and put on shoes.
Cadmael was on the balcony, staring out over the city.
“I’m ready.” He wasn’t sure he was, but he never had the luxury of time.
“You will be moved tomorrow. Somewhere with better protections.”
If he was moving, he wanted more than better protections. “I want to be able to watch the news and learn what’s happening. I can’t keep living in the dark.”
“You’ll be housed with the other priests undergoing training. Kabil will show you around. If you leave the city, there will be no second chance. Do you understand?”
Angus nodded.
“Say it and mean it.” There was a resonance behind Cadmael’s words, as if they were laced with magic.
The magic still clung to Angus, wrapping around him and making his skin tingle with power. The leftover residue from the clean sweep made Angus feel like he could raise an entire field of crops on his own.
In that moment he was glad he could help heal people, because being alone and wondering what was going on would be terrible. Maybe for a few minutes he’d stop thinking about Terrance.
“I understand.” The words were simple, but he could taste the magic.
“Now I have your word. Words shouldn’t be broken.”
Angus’s eyes widened. “What magic is that?”
“Magic you have yet to learn.” Cadmael entered the apartment. “Come. They’ll be expecting us. Someone will collect your things.”
None of the things in the apartment were his anyway. The furniture had already been there, and the clothing had been given to him. He was quite happy to walk away and start over. Again.
One day he was going to have a home.
With a sigh he followed Cadmael out of the apartment and down the stairs. The elevators weren’t working, because he’d ruined the building’s circuits.
There was chaos on the street. Sirens sounded in the distance, and people were rushing around, looking for friends and family who’d been caught out. That was what he should be doing, but he didn’t know where his friends were… were they alive.
“Where are Lizzie and the others?” Were they together? Cadmael had said they weren’t a threat, but that didn’t mean they were safe.
“Someone will check on them.”
The temple was lit up, and that was where they headed, not the hospital.
“I thought I was going to help heal.”
“When the hospital temple is full, the wounded come to any temple. All have priests, and even though we all have our specialties, we can all heal and help.”