The Spell Realm

by Zales, Dima

  For a few moments, there was silence. Then Blaise spoke again. “All right, I will watch this later. But tell me one thing. If this is true, why haven’t you gone to the Council with this information?”

  “Because at this point, all I have are your words, my suspicions, and this anonymous letter,” Ganir explained. “It’s not enough to publicly accuse one of our own, let alone call for a trial.”

  “So what do you plan to do?”

  “I have some ideas of how I can prove this,” the old man said. “The next time we hold a vote, I will know more about the breakdown, and I will record it as proof.”

  “How can you do that?” Blaise sounded curious now. “The process is designed to be anonymous.”

  “I wrote an intricate spell, similar to the locator one, which would be embedded in my voting stone. This should show me where my stone is after I place it into the voting box. I plan to vote in a way that would not suit Jandison. If he is indeed behind this, then my stone will shift, and I will have my proof.”

  “That would be proof indeed,” Blaise said, sounding thoughtful.

  “If you could replicate the droplet when you take it, I would be grateful,” Ganir said, sounding mildly relieved. Gala guessed he was glad Blaise was less angry now, though she had no idea what the man meant by his request.

  “What do you mean, replicate?” Blaise voiced Gala’s unspoken question.

  She listened in fascination as Ganir explained how one could preserve the information contained in Droplets. Blaise appeared quite interested too, asking several questions to clarify the simple process. “So promise me you will take the droplet as soon as you can,” Ganir said finally, concluding the Life Capture lecture.

  “How do I know you didn’t tamper with the droplet itself?” Blaise asked. “If anyone could manipulate Life Capture, that would be you, its creator.”

  “I am honored you think so highly of me.” Ganir sounded amused now. “But I assure you, what you describe is impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible if you come up with the right code,” Blaise said derisively.

  “You’re right. It would be theoretically possible, but extremely difficult in practice. So much so, it might as well be impossible,” Ganir responded. “Ask yourself this: even if I could do it, why would I go through that much trouble?”

  “Because you want Gala for your own purposes.” There was renewed anger in Blaise’s voice.

  She could hear the old man sighing. “It’s true that I’m curious about her,” Ganir admitted, “but all I want is to learn about her. She’s important to you, and because of that, I want to help you save her.” The old man sounded so sincere that Gala felt touched by his words.

  “Is that why you sent the Sorcerer Guard after her?” Blaise said sarcastically. “So they could save her with their swords and arrows?”

  Gala shuddered, remembering the fight. Maybe Blaise was right to distrust Ganir; those soldiers certainly hadn’t had peaceful intentions.

  “I only sent a few men after her so they could bring her to Turingrad.” Ganir sounded defensive now. “I don’t know how the entire Sorcerer Guard ended up going—I certainly didn’t authorize it.”

  “Right, of course. They acted on their own.”

  “They did,” Ganir insisted. “Either that, or your former fiancée had a hand in it. You do know she was seeing the Captain of the Guard, right?”

  “Augusta?” Blaise sounded surprised. “She was with Barson? No, I didn’t know that. Are you saying she got the Guard to come after Gala?”

  Ganir let out a heavy sigh. “I can’t say for sure, since I don’t know the depth of her involvement with the plot. It’s possible that Barson was responsible for this himself.”

  “What plot?” Blaise sounded as confused as Gala felt.

  Another sigh from Ganir. “It doesn’t matter now. They’re all dead, thanks to you and your creation.”

  Gala bit her lip to remain silent. Everything inside her wanted to protest the unfair accusation. The soldiers were not all dead—she’d healed many of them.

  “All dead?” Blaise echoed her thoughts. “What do you mean, all dead? The majority were alive and well when I last saw them.”

  There was dead silence. “I see,” Ganir said after a few moments. “Barson is smarter than I thought. Is he alive too?”

  “I don’t know,” Blaise replied coldly. “I was more concerned with helping Gala than paying attention to the individual soldiers trying to kill her.”

  “Well, it’s my problem now,” Ganir said with resignation. “I guess I will have to deal with them directly after all.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Blaise, my son, come back to Turingrad, please.” Ganir’s voice turned cajoling as he issued his request. “There’s trouble brewing, and I could use your help . . . your help and that of your creation—”

  “Her name is Gala,” Blaise said icily, “and trouble for the Council sounds like good news for me. I wish you all the best in dealing with Augusta and her Captain. It sounds like she finally found someone ruthless enough for her tastes.”

  Gala frowned, detecting an unfamiliar note in Blaise’s voice. He sounded angry with Augusta, and Gala could tell that the news that she was with someone else bothered him—and that bothered Gala for some reason.

  “I must go now,” Ganir said, interrupting Gala’s thoughts. “Take care of yourself and Gala. Once you’ve had a chance to view the droplet, please contact me and let me know the name of the informant. It’s very important, my son.”

  “All right.” Blaise sounded curt. “Now go.”

  Gala remained silent until she heard the old man leave. Blaise called out her name, but she remained silent and hidden. She needed to digest what she had just learned—and she also wanted privacy for what she planned to do for Blaise.

  After a few minutes, she heard the swooshing sound of a chaise returning. Blaise must’ve gotten on it, because she heard him saying the oral spells that directed the flight of the chaise. When there was silence again, Gala undid her light-bending spell, turning visible again. She could see Blaise’s chaise flying over the canyon in the distance, but for now, she was alone.

  It was the perfect opportunity to do what she intended. From what she’d read, gift-giving required reciprocation, and she had an idea of what Blaise might want.

  She began by trying to calm her mind, as Blaise had taught her. When she was sure that she had her emotions under control, she began doing the calculations for a complex teleportation spell. The mathematics behind this were quite intricate, though she had no doubt that she could do them correctly. She’d had a good look at the object she was thinking of, and had been inside it, too. Mentally double-checking everything, she let the spell loose.

  When it worked, she was overwhelmed with glee. This was her first serious attempt at controlled magic, and the result of it was quite spectacular. She knew Blaise would not believe his eyes when he saw what she had done for him.

  He’ll love this gift, she thought, gazing at the immense object in front of her.

  Emboldened by this success, she looked at Blaise’s chaise flying in the distance. If she was able to do the prior spell, this should work too. The complication came from the fact that the chaise was moving—but that speed was fairly constant, and she was able to account for it in her mental calculations. It took no time at all before she was sitting on that chaise next to him.

  “Blaise, I did it, I teleported myself here from the ground,” she told him, looking into his startled face.

  Chapter 19: Barson

  Barson frowned, looking at the map of the Tower spread out before him. The place was, quite literally, a fortress.

  “Are you sure this is the right time?” Dara asked, looking worried.

  “I don’t think we’ll be able to find a better moment,” Larn replied, giving his future wife a reassuring smile.

  Larn and a few of Barson’s closest lieutenants had finally arrived
in Turingrad disguised as peasants. Barson was glad to see them there, even if it increased the risk of exposure. At this point, no one outside their immediate families knew that the majority of the Guard were alive, and they needed to keep it that way for a while longer.

  “I have some interesting news concerning Ganir,” Larn said, turning toward Barson. “We had Mittel follow him again. It looks like Ganir took a long trip.”

  “A trip where?” Barson asked, looking up from the map.

  “To the mountains in the west.” Larn reached for the larger map of Koldun lying on the other corner of the table. “Mittel flew behind him, and he saw Ganir land right there.“ He pointed at a mountainous area beyond the Western Woods.

  “Interesting,” Barson said thoughtfully. “I remember seeing Blaise and his creature flying in that general direction. I wonder if there is any connection.”

  “Even if there isn’t, you might want to share this information with Augusta,” Dara said. “There is already tension between her and Ganir, and I think it might not be a bad thing if she accuses the old man of trying to undermine the Council’s latest mission.”

  Barson mulled it over. “Yes,” he said after a few moments. “That is a good idea, indeed. In fact, I think it’s time I bring Augusta up to speed on everything.”

  Dara looked taken aback. “Are you sure she’ll side with us?”

  “No,” Barson admitted truthfully. “I’m not. But at this point she’s in too deep. The fact that she wanted us to remain dead and her prior request to go up against the creature . . . Well, let’s just say she wouldn’t be too eager to reveal her involvement with those matters to the rest of the Council. If nothing else, self-interest will keep her from betraying us.”

  That, and the fact that Augusta cared for him—or so Barson hoped, at least.

  Chapter 20: Augusta

  Hearing the door open, Augusta looked up from the spell she’d been working on—the powerful spell that was starting to finally come together. Barson’s broad-shouldered frame appeared in the doorway. Instead of his usual Guard uniform, he was wearing a merchant’s hooded garment.

  For a moment, they regarded each other silently, then Augusta got up and walked toward him. He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her with the usual urgent hunger. Before they could get carried away again, however, he pulled back.

  “Augusta . . . there is something you should know,” he said quietly, still holding her in his arms. “A sorcerer friend of mine saw Ganir leaving the Tower and followed him.”

  Augusta stared at him, surprised by the change of topic. “A sorcerer friend of yours? Who?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Barson said. “The important thing is where Ganir went and why he went there.”

  “Where did he go?”

  Barson let go of her and stepped back, pulling out a rolled-up map from a bag he had hanging over his shoulder. “Here,” he said, pointing at a place on the western edge of the land. “It appears he landed somewhere in this canyon.”

  Augusta’s hands balled into fists. The old man had betrayed them after all. “I see. That must be where they’re hiding. I wonder how Ganir knew . . . unless he’s been helping them hide all along.”

  “Yes, that’s what I also thought when I heard about this,” Barson said. “It looks like the Council Leader has been secretly collaborating with your enemy. I don’t see any other reason for him to go to the mountains. It’s not exactly a short trip.”

  She frowned as a question occurred to her. “Why did this sorcerer follow Ganir?”

  “Because I asked him to keep an eye on Ganir for you,” Barson said. “Because I thought that something like that might happen.”

  Augusta regarded her lover curiously. She had underestimated Barson; he seemed to be as well-versed in intrigue as any sorcerer in the Tower. Why had she never seen this before? “Did your man get close enough to see Blaise?” she asked, staring at his hard features. “Did he see the creature? Do you think they’re hiding in the canyon?”

  Barson shrugged. “All I know is that Ganir landed. My source was too cowardly to get close. As it was, he had to use the clouds for cover the entire way and maintain a solid distance between Ganir and himself.”

  Augusta nodded. “I see.” This wasn’t quite as much detail as she’d hoped, but it was enough for her. Her every instinct was screaming that Barson’s suspicions were right—that Ganir had indeed gone to meet with Blaise. She felt a burning anger at the thought. “I think it’s time Ganir and I had a little conversation,” she said slowly, musing out loud. “Perhaps he’ll be able to answer these questions . . .”

  Barson frowned. “What do you mean, ‘have a conversation?’ You should tell the others about this, confront him in a public forum.”

  Augusta stared at him, mildly annoyed. “I’ll handle this in my own way.” As much as she appreciated Barson’s help, she had no intention of taking political advice from a soldier—even one who appeared to be smarter than she’d thought.

  Her lover’s expression darkened. “Augusta, don’t do anything rash. He’s a powerful sorcerer, and I don’t want you in danger. And speaking of that, we need to talk about what happens when the Council goes to deal with Blaise’s creation.”

  Augusta raised her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want you to go with them,” he said, holding her gaze. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “Too dangerous? Are you saying the entire Council can’t handle this thing?”

  “You weren’t there,” Barson said. “You didn’t see what she can do. She’s this beautiful, fragile-looking girl, but she was fighting better than any seasoned warrior. Then I was all but dead, and she brought me back to life . . .” There was awe and barely concealed admiration in his voice, and a sudden ugly suspicion stirred in Augusta’s mind.

  “Did she touch you?” she asked quietly, her heart beginning to beat faster. “Did she do something to you?” Her stomach curdled at the memory of how Kelvin’s overseer had been changed . . . and at Blaise’s infatuation with the monster. Was Barson now affected by the creature too? Had it somehow messed with his mind, or was he simply reacting to its deceptive beauty?

  “What?” Barson looked surprised by her questions. “I told you, she healed me when I lay there, broken from the fall. But that’s not important . . . I don’t want you going on this mission.”

  Augusta felt her hackles rising. “You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she said evenly, her pulse still pounding at the suspicion that the creature might’ve gotten to Barson in some way—or worse, that he lusted after it.

  Barson’s nostrils flared. “You don’t understand. There are bigger things at play here—”

  “I understand exactly what’s at play here,” Augusta interrupted, her fury growing by the minute. “You don’t want this thing dead either, do you? You, Blaise, Ganir—it’s gotten to you all. It’s chosen its guise well, hasn’t it? Men can’t seem to think straight when it comes to her—”

  Barson’s eyes flashed with anger. “All I am trying to do is protect you—”

  “I don’t need protection from someone who can’t even do a basic spell,” Augusta said sharply, losing her temper. She was more than capable of looking after herself, and the fact that Barson was trying to imply that she was some weak damsel in need of protection added to her fury. She wasn’t about to let some soldier tell her what to do—especially when she was beginning to suspect his motivations.

  “Is that what you need—a man who can do spells?” A muscle pulsed in his jaw as he took a step toward her. “Is that what this whole thing is about for you? Is that why you want to destroy this creature so badly? Because she’s with him? Are you still pining for your reclusive conjurer?”

  Augusta literally saw red. “Get out,” she hissed, pointing at the door. “Get out before I show you exactly what a ‘conjurer’ can do—”

  “Are you threatening me?” Barson’s voice turned dangerously soft. “I don’t do well w
ith threats, Augusta.”

  Driven beyond fury, Augusta jumped back, her hand instinctively scrambling for the Interpreter Stone lying on the table. Before she could grab it, however, she felt his hard arms close around her, whirling her around and pressing her against his muscular body. She pushed at him, but it was like trying to move a mountain with her bare hands, and the sense of powerlessness was even more enraging. Her mouth opened to chant a spell—she didn’t know which one and didn’t care at this point—but his lips closed over hers, the kiss hard and filled with rage, and all she could do was hang helplessly in his embrace.

  She could feel the heat of passion rising between them, but before it could go any further, his arms loosened around her and he stepped back, his chest heaving with anger and something more.

  Her body shaking all over, Augusta tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t form on her swollen lips. And before she could pull herself together, he turned and stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

  Chapter 21: Blaise

  Shocked, Blaise stared at Gala who had just materialized on his chaise. She had teleported herself there—a very complex maneuver, given that the chaise was moving through the air at the time.

  “I did it,” she said, beaming at him. “I controlled a spell again. A few spells, as a matter of fact.”

  Recovering from his shock, Blaise pulled her toward him, shuddering at the thought of what could’ve happened if she’d miscalculated just a tiny bit and landed inside the chaise, instead of on top of it. Or inside Blaise, for that matter. His heart pounded heavily in his chest.

  She hugged him for a brief moment, then pulled back, looking up at him. “Wasn’t that good?” she asked proudly. “I did exactly what I set out to do and nothing else.”

  Blaise nodded, still not trusting himself to speak, and her bright smile faded. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Are you upset with me?”

  Blaise took a deep breath, letting the remnants of tension drain out of him. “No,” he managed to say evenly. “It’s just that what you did was dangerous, and I was imagining what could’ve happened if you’d made an error in your calculations.”