The Spell Realm

by Zales, Dima

  “The particulars of how he does it are not relevant,” Barson said, cutting short her excited lecture. Like all sorcerers, Dara could ramble about spell details for hours on end. “What we need to figure out is how we can use this information.”

  “I’ve already thought about it,” Dara said, grinning. “I think it would be quite helpful if Ganir knew about this.”

  Barson considered that for a moment. “Yes, I think you’re right. Divide and conquer might be the way to go here. We just need to make sure we don’t cast the validity of the latest vote into question.”

  She appeared thoughtful. “Yes, we want to plant the suspicion in Ganir’s mind, but not arm him with damning evidence.”

  “How about an anonymous letter?” Barson suggested. “We could have it delivered to Ganir’s quarters. It would make him suspicious, but won’t be enough for him to go public with his accusations.”

  “Right.” Dara looked excited. “And if he did, everyone would assume he’s being a sore loser because the last vote didn’t go his way. But the letter would be enough for him to distrust and suspect Jandison—and that could take his attention away from us and cause some additional rifts within the Council.”

  “Excellent.” Barson gave his sister an approving look. “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter 15: Blaise

  At the realization of what was happening, Blaise jumped up, cursing. The meadow around them was on fire, the flames devouring the bushes with startling speed. The smoke was thick and noxious, choking them, and he heard Gala beginning to cough. There was no time to waste.

  Acting on instinct, Blaise began to chant the words of the spell he’d used to put out the fire in his house during Augusta’s visit. He could hear his own voice growing hoarse from the smoke, and he wondered fleetingly why all the women in his life tried to burn him lately. By the time the spell was complete, he could barely speak—but foam began streaming from his hands, putting out the fire with record speed. Within minutes, the blaze was out, and they were standing in the middle of the soggy clearing, looking at the ashes of what used to be a beautiful green meadow.

  “I’m so sorry!” Gala wailed, covering her face with her hands. “Oh, Blaise, I’m so sorry . . . I lost control again. I could’ve really hurt you—”

  “Gala, stop it . . .” Blaise took her hands and gently pulled them down to her sides. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault that you can’t control your emotions yet—it just means we need to expedite your training.” She still looked upset, so he added, “And besides, I have a feeling you would’ve teleported us out of here if things got too hot.” He grinned at her, inviting her to share in the humor.

  She shook her head, still looking distraught. “Maybe . . . but there is no guarantee of that. My magic is still too unpredictable.” She sounded frustrated.

  “Look, Gala, I was flattered,” Blaise said, framing her face with his hands. “That was quite a reaction to my kiss.”

  She started to respond, and then he saw her looking up behind him. Letting go of her, Blaise turned quickly, ready to battle whatever might be there—but it was just the chaise, finally arriving from the lake.

  “I think we need a change of scenery,” he said, looking around the burned meadow. “Let’s go back to the lake now.”

  “Yes, please.” She sounded eager, and he knew she was as anxious to leave this place as he was.

  “Let’s go then.” Leading Gala to the chaise, Blaise did a spell to get it back to its normal size, and then they got on it. Thinking back on the fight with the bearwolves, he wished he’d insisted they fly to the village the night before, instead of walking with the hunters. It took no time at all to reach the lake this way.

  “This is as good a place as any other to try to have some more lessons,” he said as they descended on the shore of the lake. The place still took his breath away with its beauty. Looking at the still waters, he remembered swimming there with Gala, and a wave of warmth rolled through him. He definitely needed to teach her how to control her emotions, he thought wryly. It wouldn’t do to have her burn down the entire forest if they became more intimate.

  They walked to a small grassy area on the edge of the forest. Gala sat down on a fallen tree, and Blaise joined her there.

  “Please sit comfortably,” he said, noticing that Gala was perched in an awkward manner.

  “Does my posture matter?” she asked, looking at him.

  “The key is that you are comfortable,” Blaise explained.

  She adjusted her legs, folding them underneath herself, and pulled back her shoulders. There was a sensuality in her posture now, and Blaise shifted a bit in reaction. Focus, he told himself. Don’t think of that kiss.

  “I am by no means an expert at this,” he began, taking a few deep breaths to relax himself. “All I know is that these techniques helped me focus when I was a child. My mother taught them to me. You see, I was overly active and had trouble concentrating on some tasks, so she thought that this, along with some spells, would help me relax and clear my mind. Later on, when I was in a very dark place after Louie’s death, I practiced these relaxation methods to help me regain some equilibrium.”

  She sat there listening, absorbing his every word.

  “Close your eyes and focus on your breathing,” Blaise told her. “Think of nothing else.”

  She closed her eyes, her face assuming a serene, introspective expression.

  “Now follow your breath,” Blaise told her, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. “Don’t try to control it, but just focus your conscious awareness on it. In and out, in and out . . . Try to feel the exact moment when the ‘out’ breath ends. Can you feel it? Can you tell when the ‘in’ breath becomes the ‘out’ breath?”

  From his own experience, he knew that it was very hard to pinpoint that moment, but trying to do so quieted the mind tremendously.

  “Now try to gently slow your breathing,” he said after a couple of minutes. “Start counting in your head to five on the ‘in,’ and to five on the ‘out.’”

  She nodded, continuing to breathe as he’d instructed, and he could see that she was doing exceedingly well for a first-timer. That was good; if she mastered the technique, it would enable her to calm down if she needed to. He could see all the tension in her face and body ebbing away until she was as relaxed as he had ever seen her. Instead of her customary expression of excitement and curiosity, she looked serene, beatific. It almost seemed like she was—

  Blaise’s jaw dropped. No, it didn’t just seem like it. Gala actually was beginning to float upward. So far she was only a few inches off the ground, but he had no idea how high she would go if allowed to continue. “All right,” he said gently, not wanting to startle her, “now slowly start getting back to your regular speed of breathing.”

  She followed his instructions, and he could see her slowly descending. When her folded legs touched the tree, he told her to open her eyes.

  “That was wonderful,” she said, beaming at him. “I felt very even and calm. Then I started feeling a lightness as well.”

  “Yes, I could tell.” Blaise smiled.

  “You could?”

  “You started floating upward,” Blaise explained, his smile widening.

  “Oh.” She frowned a little. “Does it mean that I failed?”

  “No. You seem to start getting into trouble when you are at extreme points of any emotion or sensation. I think this floating happened because you were maybe too calm and relaxed. It doesn’t make the technique any less useful, however. If you are overwhelmed with a stressful emotion, using this strategy should help you get closer to a safe, neutral state,” he said, hoping he was actually right.

  “Truth be told, I am not surprised that I floated,” Gala said, looking at him. “I think I wanted to. I was feeling so good and so light . . .”

  “Good.” Blaise was glad to hear that. “Now we need to figure out how you can use some of what you learned to control your spell
casting.”

  “I want to try something,” she said with a mischievous expression on her face, and before Blaise could respond, she started walking toward the water. Blaise figured she wanted to go for a swim, but she didn’t move to take off her clothes. It was only when she took the first step that he finally understood what she was doing.

  She was walking on the calm waters of the lake, her feet barely creating any ripples.

  Grinning at her achievement, Blaise pulled out his Interpreter Stone and quickly wrote a spell for himself—and then he headed toward the water, joining Gala in walking on the surface.

  Apparently hearing something, she looked behind her, toward Blaise, and immediately started sinking. She broke her focus, he realized. Concentration was critical for her, it seemed. She was up to her shapely calves in the water when he grabbed her hand.

  With his support, she seemed to recover quickly, her feet once again gliding on the water as they walked further. Blaise knew his spell would only work for a limited time, so he tried to enjoy the thrill of it. It had been ages since he had done something like this—simply using magic for the sheer fun of experiencing something no one else could do.

  After a couple of minutes, Gala slowed down and reached for his other hand, facing him as they stood in the middle of the lake. He could feel the familiar pulsing heat rising between them, and he lowered his head, kissing her again. She kissed him back fiercely, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. Their bodies moved and swayed together, almost as if they were dancing . . . and then Blaise felt his spell end. He began to sink, and Gala gasped, losing her focus again.

  They fell into the water with a splash. Out here, away from the shore, the water was much cooler, and Blaise could feel it seeping through his clothes. The heated moment was over. Cursing and laughing, they swam to the shore.

  Emerging from the lake with their clothes dripping, they quickly headed back to the chaise. “I think that’s plenty of training for now,” Blaise said, grinning at Gala. “You did what you set out to do for today.”

  She beamed back at him. “I did, didn’t I? I finally controlled a spell!”

  * * *

  After they came back from the lake, Gala joined Maya and Esther, and the women went to check on a pregnant woman in the village. Blaise was left alone in the house with Liva. This was his opportunity to implement an idea that had been hovering in his mind ever since his and Gala’s semi-dance on the lake.

  Going to the room he was sharing with Gala, he laid out a few spell cards and his Interpreter Stone. He wanted to give Gala a gift, and he knew just the thing she would like. As he was writing out the spell, he caught himself grinning. He was looking forward to Gala’s reaction to this.

  As he was finishing up, he heard a tentative knock on the door.

  “Come in,” he called out, not bothering to put away the evidence of his work. Given what he’d learned about Liva, he didn’t think she would mind him doing a little sorcery in her house.

  The older woman entered the room with an uncertain expression on her face. When she spotted the cards and the Stone, her eyes widened. “Is that the Interpreter Stone?” she asked reverently. “I heard about this new invention from some of the recent arrivals, but I’ve never seen it before.”

  “Yes, this is the Stone,” Blaise said. “Would you like to take a look at it?”

  Liva’s face lit up. “Oh, may I?” She reached out and picked up the black object with trembling fingers. “This is amazing . . . Is it true that you can do all kinds of complex spells with it?”

  “Yes, it’s true,” Blaise confirmed, and he repeated some of the things he had explained to Gala earlier in the day. Liva listened intently, hanging on his every word. There was an expression of longing on her face, and he realized that she was as hungry for arcane knowledge as he was himself.

  “What do you use your spells for?” he asked Liva, wondering how she managed to do magic in a place that seemed to frown upon sorcery in all its forms.

  “Oh, I only use it for things that will not be attributed to spell casting,” she said, looking at him. “When someone is sick in a way that nothing else would help, I sometimes use a spell to make them feel better. I can’t always cure them, but I try to take some pain away.”

  “That’s quite impressive,” Blaise said, studying the woman with newfound respect. Healing spells were not easy, particularly when done in verbal form. Her knowledge base was more extensive than he had thought.

  “I also help out with food in the winter months,” she added, looking pleased at the praise, “and when the storms hit.”

  “Does that happen frequently?”

  She shook her head. “Fortunately, no. But when it does happen, it’s brutal. People die, and we have to rebuild our homes. The worst ones can do severe damage to the local forests, destroying edible plants and causing animals to hide in other areas.”

  “So what do you do then?” Blaise asked curiously. “How does the village survive?”

  “There are a few fruit trees at the very edge of the village, as well as some that bear nuts,” she explained. “I figured out a way to help those trees thrive, even in tough times. It’s not that different from doing a healing spell. The rest of the village think the trees are just unusually sturdy. So between that and some of the meat that we cure, we usually make it through.”

  “That’s amazing, Liva,” Blaise said, impressed by the woman’s ingenuity. He’d never heard of anyone using a variant of a healing spell to make trees stronger. He himself had worked on this type of problem, but his approach relied on modifying the seeds to produce more resilient crops. As he thought about it, he made a mental note to offer these types of seeds to the villagers, given the problems they seemed to have with the storms.

  There was also another thing that he could do to help the villagers, Blaise realized. “How would you like to learn written sorcery?” he asked Liva. With a more powerful tool, he knew this woman would be able to do more good for her people.

  “Oh, I would love that,” Liva exclaimed, a wide smile appearing on her face. Then the smile dimmed. “But wouldn’t I need an Interpreter Stone for that?”

  “Yes, you would.” Blaise smiled at her. “Luckily, I have a very good idea how to make one. I could create one for you, given enough time. For now, you could practice with mine.”

  “That would be amazing,” Liva said, “but I don’t know if I could afford such a treasure—”

  “Liva, please . . .” Blaise gave her an exasperated look. “You are offering us your hospitality. This is the least I can do in return.” And before she could protest, he added, “Why don’t you join Gala and me for a lesson tomorrow? As it so happens, I plan to start introducing her to written spells.”

  Chapter 16: Augusta

  The white mouse ran around its cage as Augusta prepared the latest version of her spell. When it was ready, she fed the cards into the Interpreter Stone and waited. The results were almost instantaneous.

  Within seconds, the mouse collapsed, appearing dead.

  Reaching into the cage, Augusta pulled out the little animal and studied it closely, feeling its heartbeat. It was not dead after all; the spell had worked as intended. Dania’s books had turned out to be quite helpful.

  Sighing, Augusta placed the mouse back in its cage and began to prepare the next spell in her arsenal. That one, if successful, would likely kill the mouse, so Augusta intended to try it on a cockroach instead.

  She was also making progress on her physics project, and the results of what she was uncovering were breathtaking—and frightening. She had been thinking about this theory for months, but only since Barson’s ‘death’ had she realized the destructive potential of what she was studying. If she was right, then she could use this previously unimaginable power to destroy the creature if all other measures failed. What she needed was a viable spell to go along with the theory.

  After a few minutes, she realized that her attention was drifting again. For th
e first time in her life, Augusta had difficulty focusing on her work. Ever since she woke up alone in her bed this morning, she’d been gripped by a sense of unreality. It was difficult for her to believe that after everything, Barson had survived—that he was as alive and vital as ever.

  Everything she’d done since that awful battle was based on the assumption that he was dead, that the creature had killed him and other members of the Guard. Had Augusta done the right thing in committing the Council to this course of action? At the time, she’d had no doubt, but now she wondered if there had been something else she could’ve done instead. If there was some way she could’ve destroyed the monster without endangering Blaise in the process.

  Her gaze turned toward a small droplet lying on her desk. It was the one she had picked up in Blaise’s house during her last visit there—the one that had been lying discarded on the floor. She suspected that this droplet most likely contained a memory of her and Blaise’s time together . . . a memory that her former lover clearly didn’t value anymore.

  She hesitated for a moment, then her hand reached for the droplet, almost involuntarily.

  Closing her eyes, Augusta placed it under her tongue.

  * * *

  Blaise sat with Augusta in a large auditorium, watching the show of light unfolding in front of them. It was a spectacle unlike any other, with every color of the rainbow meshing together and separating in large spheres. The spheres looked like gigantic soap bubbles moving in fractal patterns, flowing with the serene music that accompanied the show.

  “I always thought sorcery could be beautiful,” Blaise whispered, leaning closer to Augusta, “but this is truly amazing.”