by Kim Knox
What the hell was I doing here?
Tobias let go of my arm. “Welcome to the Maze of the Basilica.”
“What?” I didn’t trust that sharp gleam in his eyes. I stepped back, my hands raised. I knew how dangerous the man was. “And you’re going to stop me finding my way through it? Hunt me?”
“No.” The shark-bright smile was back. “Time for you to fly.”
I blinked. My feet kept moving, sliding back over the wet cobbles. His magic. He was using it against me… but he wasn’t attacking. That thought leapt in my head. I flailed, arms wheeling until my spine hit the edge of a stone doorway. I scrabbled my hand against the lintel, feeling for the door...and found only empty space.
Tobias watched me, his expression blank and so like Blake’s it unnerved me.
I had no idea why he was letting me go. Everything about the situation screamed that it was wrong. But I couldn’t ignore the chance to escape.
Tobias Conrad touched the tip of his walking stick to his forehead in a brief, sarcastic farewell. “Myth says this is the Chosen’s final test.” His mouth curved into a wry smile. “Though what you are to choose is still shrouded in mystery.” He paused. “But good luck, Leona Munro.”
It was the last thing I saw before I took my chance to escape him and bolted into the stinking shadows.
“This seemed like such a good idea.”
I scrubbed my damp hands over my face, fingers tangling in my hair. I leaned against the ornate doorjamb and tried to force my swirling mind to think.
In the first rush of escape, I’d run, I thought away from the Basilica and logically back toward the city of North Bank and the promise of the river. The buildings and streets around the Basilica were a tight-knit warren of narrow alleys and interconnecting houses. Risking what appeared to be a major road only revealed a thick-clouded sky and no sun. And I found the road simply twisted in on itself and forced me back into the network of houses.
I stared up at the crumbling ceiling of yet another once-beautiful drawing room. Chinks of murky light cut across blackened plasterwork. And now I was here. Completely lost. “I really am an idiot of the first—”
I stopped.
In the musty stillness, I sensed it again. I winced. I wanted to call it a sound, but it wasn’t. It was a slow-twisting hook through my blood. I forced my mind to fix on the intricate design of the cracked moulding. It eased the fast beat of my heart and the sudden dry breathlessness. I pushed myself from the doorjamb.
It wasn’t the wraith. That lay coiled in my chest, only a slight flicker of heat across my clavicle. Proof that the creature wasn’t an insane memory. No, I could almost taste whatever it was tensing my body. A cold, bitter herb that burned my throat. I swallowed and gagged. It was getting stronger. I froze at the entrance to another dark room. The Source sat in the Basilica. Was I tasting magic?
And how crazy does that sound, Leona?
I let out a slow breath. It was the only idea I had right then. And I couldn’t continue to run from one derelict house and shop to another. “Decision made,” I muttered, and the peppery taste of magic burned the back of my mouth. “And do I feel stupid.”
I turned and wiped my hand over my lips. No magician had ever written about a magical scent. “Not something tasting vaguely like rocket.” I paused, and my tongue licked around my mouth. “Only worse. All right. The talking to myself stops too.”
My boots echoed over the wide, shadowed space of an old ballroom. Floorboards squeaked...and something else. Heat bloomed in my chest at the panicked thought of rats. I curled my hands into fists and forced myself to keep an even pace. The circle of houses surrounding the Source had been abandoned for decades, maybe centuries.
I put my shoulder to a door and shoved. Hinges creaked.
Had Blake known these rooms when they were first decorated?
I imagined his tall, dark form standing in front of the wide window. His tangible power would’ve eclipsed any other magic users in his presence. I could almost see him stalk toward me, his vast true form easily stretching to the high ceiling. My heartbeat ramped, and I tasted the clean scent of the ocean through the musty decay of the room... But the mirage faded.
The wraith flickered a hiss of flame over the curve of my shoulder. Regret had kicked that reaction, an ache in my chest I couldn’t push away. I missed him. A lot more than I thought I would. A part of me felt...hollow in this absence.
The sharp burn of the creature within as it curled around my spine proved the damn thing was wide awake again. I cursed silently. Yes, it was the very last thing I needed.
I strode through more rooms. At least there was a bright side to the wraith. It kept the chilled, damp air from biting deep. Pulling in a breath, I found the bitter taste of magic easing from my tongue. Good, my plan had to be working.
An empty doorway led into a bare-bricked barn. There were stains against the crumbling brick, perhaps marking out pens. So it could have been an animal shed. I didn’t care. It only left a faint peppery taste in my mouth. I hoped that meant beyond the patchy wall was the start of the North Bank.
I stared along the blank expanse of wall. No doors marked it. My stomach growled. I rubbed an absent hand over it, trying to think. Damn, I hadn’t eaten for hours. Not since a hurried breakfast. And who knew when I would get the next meal. Maybe when all the stupid tests were finally over.
The guild masters had built a deliberate maze around the Source and the Basilica. A protection and possibly a test... Given that, it meant there had to be a way in.
I rubbed damp palms against my hips. I hadn’t studied the history of the North Bank. My books had focused on the performance of magic. It was a hole in my knowledge I now regretted. “But then, I never thought I'd cross the river.”
My voice echoed. A fall of dust caught in a slice of light from the high slate roof. Timber struts creaked. My stomach tightened. I had the horrifying thought that the whole structure could crash down with a few more words. I found myself holding my breath as I laid my palm against the rough brick of the long wall. It was cold and damp to the touch. My fingernails scraped grooves through the thin brick and mortar and dribbles of dust and grit dropped to the hard earthen floor.
I pressed harder. The texture of the wall...changed. Cold and wet, it slid between my fingers, as slick as river mud.
I watched my hand disappear beneath the thin red line of bricks. My stomach turned. But I could still feel my hand. I twisted it; the cold mud turned to sludge over my skin. And no, I hadn’t read about that either.
I snorted. Why had I wasted good money on any of my books? If I got out of this alive, I was going to have strong words with those who claimed to have so much knowledge about all things magic.
My hand curled into a fist and I tried to tug it free. The edge of the brick dug into my wrist and trapped me with little sharp jabs of pain. Fuck. Twisting only made the brick bite harder, and blood stained the cuff of my shirt. The wall…bulged.
Panicked heat shot through me. What the fuck was going on? One insane thought burned. It had tasted my blood. It wanted more. The wall surged.
I thought I screamed, and the raw taste of magic, of mud and rot burst over me.
Chapter Thirteen
“Seems he was right,” Tobias said.
My face had mashed against cool, dry stone. A bitter cough escaped me. Twice in one day, I’d fallen flat on my face. At least, this time, I hadn’t been crushed by falling masonry.
I risked moving my head and found it free from pain. So that too was an improvement on the morning. I squinted against the bright, golden glow of too many oil lamps. Planting my hands on the stone slabs, I pushed myself up. “Do you have any food?”
“This is hardly the time to think of your stomach, Leona.” The familiar tip-tap of his walking stick drew closer from the darkness of the surrounding shadows.
I rubbed a gritty hand over my eyes and focused on the man standing over me. “You try being blown up, shot at, purged,
and abandoned in a derelict maze. It gives you an amazing appetite.”
His head tilted. “Doesn’t that level of sarcasm sour your gut?”
“I can’t feel it for the growling hunger.”
A genuine smile lit Tobias’ face. He offered a gloved hand and helped me to my feet. “No food here.” He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
I stared around the circular room with its high, domed ceiling. Clean, white plaster reflected the thick scattering of oil lamps. And at its centre stood a baldaquin, twisting columns supporting a crystal roof. Beneath it sat a round table and a plain golden cup. Curving light spiralled upward from it, blazing through the crystal.
I was an idiot. Everything had led me to this place. Not away from it. “That’s the Source?”
“That’s the Source,” Tobias agreed.
“A cup?”
“Go closer.”
My feet moved automatically. The fascinating rush and swirl of light drew me. It was beautiful, sparks and myriad colours bursting out to hang in the still, damp air. My boot stubbed the first marble stair, and I blinked.
A ball of brilliant white light hovered within the cup, spinning and twisting. It caught my breath. I stared, leaning closer until the mist of light wreathed around me. Warm and smooth, a wash of peace, but it wasn’t just light. Facets gleamed with it. So, a diamond?
“Not exactly.”
My heart stopped. I couldn’t turn to look. “Blake?”
Blake’s warm hand closed around mine, pulling me from the mist, and I caught the faint, bitter burn of magic. I stared up at his bleak face. The wraith hissed a hot welcome across my shoulder blades, and a shiver caught me.
His brow creased but then cleared. “It’s a filter.”
I forced myself to look back to the stemmed cup. The hard edges had softened to a blur of white again. “Filtering what?” His hand tightened, and he eased me away from the canopy. The heat of the wraith surged in lazy, disconcerting patterns across my shoulders. I made myself focus. “And how do you know what I’m thinking?”
He twitched a smile. “Leona, how could you forget?”
“How did you get in here?” Tobias’ knuckles showed white around his walking stick, his expression grim.
“The same way as you. Knowledge brought us here. Though you acted more on instinct, on suppressed memory.” Blake stared up to the crystal dome, filled with glistening light. “And unlike you, I know where this place is.”
Tobias snorted. “I think most senior magicians know where the Basilica is.”
Blake straightened. “Really? So you know it’s under the river.”
Tobias stared at him.
I pulled my hand free of Blake’s, and with a parting pinprick of fire, the wraith faded. Its absence cleared my mind. “You left the Council chamber?” It was an accusation; I couldn’t help myself. He was my protector...and he’d abandoned me.
“I’m not Tobias. Councillor Musgrove holds little charm for me.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Blake shrugged. “I know.”
I held back a curse. I was tired and hungry, and his nonchalance hurt. I turned away from him, and my gaze strayed to the stream of light, letting the rush of its almost mesmeric glow calm me.
“Leona.”
Blake’s rough voice broke its spell. And it was a spell. “It’s pure magic,” I murmured.
“New magic.”
I blinked. Yes, my books were woefully lacking. “There’s an old magic?”
Blake’s laughter was harsh. “Oh yes.” His hand skimmed my jaw, the callous touch causing the wraith coiled in my chest to stretch, a flicker of flame scorching my breast. “Leona.” He let out a slow breath. “There is a way of doing things. A way I have followed for far too long.”
I swallowed. “But?”
“But.” He ran a finger over my bottom lip, barely touching. “The situation is very different this time.”
The wraith’s coiling body licked heat down across my stomach, curling with tiny, tender flickers of flame around my navel. “Blake...”
The sharp strike of Tobias’ steel-tipped walking stick against the stone echoed around the room. I jerked back from Blake’s needed touch.
“You can get a bed later,” Tobias said. “Right now, if I understand correctly, Leona must face a test.”
Blake’s jaw tightened and his eyes held mine. “Yes. Another one.” He turned away. “She has already passed the initial North Bank test, which was to find this place. But your games”—he stood before Tobias; I watched the magician lift his chin—“with the Council have forced me to move faster. There should have been time for her grow used to the wraith, to accept her choices with a clear mind.”
They were talking about me as if I wasn’t standing three feet away from them. “And what if I refuse? I’m under the river, as insane as that sounds, and well beyond the reach of the Council.”
“Yes.” Tobias’ sharp smile sent my nerves skittering. I couldn’t trust him. “She can do a deal with us.”
“Tobias...” Blake’s warning growl lifted the hairs on the back of my neck.
“What? You’re the only one to decide?” Tobias pointed his walking stick at the canopy, its tip tracing through an outer strand of light. “Magicians and the nulls have warred forever. Here is a woman who could bring peace. Leona”—my name was a velvet drawl—“take the cup. We can leave here with it. Then both sides of the river will have what they want. I’ll move magic far away from the Council’s precious technology.”
I paused. “Why can’t you take it?”
Tobias let out a heavy breath. “I tried. Only someone who can truly control magic can pick up the cup. All magicians just direct the power, twist it, turn it. But only the Chosen can control it.”
“Enough.” Blake cursed in a rough language. His words sparked a silver blaze beneath the crystal canopy. “How tempted are you by the promise of magic, Leona?”
Being the focus of the two men stretched my aching nerves to snapping. “Right now, I’d sell my soul for a decent kebab.”
Tobias snorted and tilted his head, leaning forward on his walking stick. A bright smile cut his handsome face. “Have I mentioned how well magicians eat?”
I couldn’t help the laugh, but I caught Blake’s grim face and sobered. “What happens if I choose magic?”
Blake paused. “Nothing.”
“What?” He was not making any sense. “Nothing?”
Blake ran a hand over his short hair and began to pace. “Candidates have fallen at this point. Tobias did.”
“What are you talking about?” Tobia walking stick stopped Blake midstride, hitting him square in the chest. “I was a candidate?”
“Yes. A street kid from Beranin. As null as they come.” Blake paused, and the silence hung heavy. Tobias’ jaw had tightened, and his shoulders tensed. Had Blake spoken the truth? “You came late to your powers, didn’t you? Everyone, even you, had given up all hope of joining the guild. But then your family for generations were notorious nulls, shunned by every self-respecting magician—”
“Fuck you.”
Blake ignored the insult and carried on. “You were what, twenty...twenty-one when magic found you?” He paused, and his dark eyes gleamed. I recognised that raw hunger, and my gut twisted. Blake had fucked Tobias to create another candidate, for his body to accept the burn of a wraith. “Then your ability to direct magic shone, bright and clear, burning within you with so little effort.” His lips thinned, but the corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Sound familiar?”
My head was spinning. Blake and Tobias. I didn’t know how I felt, but Blake had obviously removed the other man’s memories of their time together. “And he chose magic?”
Blake let out a slow breath and pushed the stick from his chest. Tobias let him, obviously still in shock. “Right here. I’m sorry, Tobias. You know this is the truth. There are closed memories within you. Their shapes sometimes push into your mind.” Blake snorted, bu
t Tobias stepped back, shaking his head. “It’s how you’re here. Now. You chose new magic, wanted to bond with it, direct it. You weren’t the one meant to be chosen. As you said, you can’t truly control magic.”
“Silence.” Tobias’ voice, sharp and hard, made me jump. He struck his walking stick against the floor. “No one was with me when I found my way in here, when I tried to take the cup.” He shook his head again. “No, I would remember you—”
Blake’s laugh was sharp, bitter, and a loneliness lurked under his words. “No. You wouldn’t. None of them do.”
I bit my lip, wishing I could find somewhere quiet to think. The light caught me again, blocked the low muttering of the others. Magic. The promise of magic. With the twist of my fingers and a silent command, I could hold a flame in my palm, conjure a breeze, bend light.
And if I took the lure, I would forget all about Blake. The promise of never knowing him, never remembering our time together... It was tempting. But something would always ache...
The glowing streams wreathing around the columns of the canopy drew me closer.
My gaze narrowed on the light. Was I imagining the darker flashes, moving and fading between the arcs of white?
The darkness coalesced, and I found myself staring at buildings I seemed to know. A higgledy-piggledy tumble of red brick, spires, and stone porticos, with narrow alleys threading black through them. A drawing. They reminded me of a drawing in one of my books. I was looking at North Bank. The focus widened, dropped. And strangely, the scent of cold winter air and dust and traffic washed over me.
A bitter blast burst out, knocked me back, and I stumbled and fell.
Screams. Pain. Death. Over me. Around me. I fisted my hands in my tangled hair, denying the fierce sweep of human agony. “What the fuck was that?”