Wayward Magic (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 2)

by Melinda Kucsera

  “Why not?”

  Amal turned at the question and wiped a tear from her eye.

  “Why can’t she be here?” Nulthir asked in a shaky voice.

  Everyone stopped. He rolled onto his stomach with help from Dale then tried to push up to his hands and knees.

  Amal held her hands up in a stop gesture. “You have to stay out of the light. It hurts you in this state.”

  “Aye, magic is light, and so is she.” He flopped onto his stomach again and lay there panting from effort. “I would see her if she is there. Just once. They say she was our Queen long, long ago. I would see her before….”

  “Don’t say it. You’re not dying.” But he had a point. Amal yanked a blackened feather from her bum wing. Wishes were like feathers. They both flew. Maybe this one would too.

  Nulthir laughed bitterly. His voice was changing, growing more sibilant. “I am dying to everything I ever was. That’s what this darkness is. It’s changing me.”

  “Maybe you need a miracle.” But Amal was all out of those. Her wing smoked in the sunlight as she stared at the blackened feather in her hand, imprinting it with just one wish. Then she cast the feather out of the window, and the runes on the wall around it didn't ignite. They let it pass out into the sunny morning. Fly true, little feather, fly to our sylvan Queen.

  The wind snatched it up and carried it away. Maybe it would reach the Queen of All Trees, and maybe it wouldn’t. Amal wouldn’t count on that. But she felt better after enlisting such powerful aid, even if it was an extreme longshot.

  “There must be something we can do.” Thistle draped an arm around Amal’s shoulders and turned her away from the sunlight scorching her numb wing.

  “There’s nothing,” a scratchy voice replied as Nulthir turned his head in a way it was never meant to. His eyes were swirling black again and filled with a stranger’s intelligence. “You threw me out once. You won’t again. This body is mine.”

  The creature that was not Nulthir sprang up on all fours. Black fangs extended from his bleeding mouth.

  “It’s not yours!” Dale rammed into his calf and knocked his leg out from under him, momentarily unbalancing the creature that had overtaken Nulthir. But Thing wasn’t here to oust the mental intruder.

  Where are you, Thing? We need you! Amal screamed into the darkness between their minds. She hoped he heard because this was beyond her skills.

  Chapter Nine

  To avoid Mart, Iraine had cut across the prison to a stone wall that looked like all the others in the prison, except this one housed a magicked doorway. She pushed on the fourth protrusion from the left of the nearly invisible seam, and part of the stone wall swung open on magical hinges. Those crazy Litherians had thought of everything when they’d built this place.

  Iraine waltzed out of what would be the postern gate into the gloomy cavern the prison squatted in. The door closed on its own with a soft click. In front of her, a narrow footbridge spanned a frothing moat. It was just wide enough to fit both her feet at the same time and it had no railing. Safety wasn’t a concern for its ancient builders. Fear skittered up her spine on cold bird feet and Iraine shivered.

  You can do this. Just one hundred steps and you’re across. Or she could run around the side of the prison to the larger bridge in front of the main entrance. But then, someone might see her. Iraine swallowed the bitter taste of fear. The rushing water was too loud in her ears, and it stank of fish.

  Iraine rubbed her arms through her sleeves to combat the sudden chill in the air and took a deep breath to calm her nerves before running across that narrow bridge as fast as she could. Once across, she kept running all the way to the Low Market, the de facto center of the Lower Quarters.

  Unlike many of the tunnels down here, all the ones leading to the Low Market were well-lit by clusters of glowing lumir crystals and relatively free of obstacles. Thank God for that.

  Iraine skidded to a halt as the tunnel she'd been following suddenly ended at a cavern so large, she couldn’t see its other side. Columns held up its lofty ceiling where stalagmites and stalactites had met. Inside, the aptly named Low Market sprawled in a multi-color sensory experience. Tents of every color competed for space along the narrow aisles winding through the market. Despite the early hour, some stalls were doing a brisk business.

  They were probably peddling illegal substances because the shoppers and sellers alike both fled when they glimpsed her blue uniform. Oops. All Guards wore the same uniform no matter where under the mountain they served. Iraine had always appreciated that. But she was a prison Guard, she had no jurisdiction outside of that prison. Time to blend in and stop drawing attention to herself.

  Shop owners and customers alike visibly relaxed when they saw her pulling coins out of the utility belt riding low on her hips. Now, she was just one more eager shopper searching for a deal. Out of the corner of her eye, she kept an eye on the stalls she passed, but she didn't see the one she needed. Where the hell was Esmeralda? This was a fine time for her to take a morning off.

  "Can I help you?"

  Iraine spun to face the woman who'd walked up behind her. "There you are, Essie. I was just looking for you."

  "I take it you need something." Essie rocked back on her heels so she could look up at Iraine.

  Essie was a diminutive woman shrunken by age and sharpened by wisdom. Her slanted eyes seemed overly bright, but that was probably the glow of the lumir crystal overhead making them appear so. What Essie did wasn't precisely magic. It was magic's cousin. At least that's how Essie had explained it. Iraine had never really cared about the particulars, but this morning she did.

  "You'd be right about that. Have you eaten?" Iraine smelled barbecued meat, and her stomach grumbled.

  Essie shook her head, and a black lock escaped the complicated updo. "Business has been slow today."

  "Then I'll buy you a bite to eat, and you can help me with a small problem." Iraine gestured to a nearby food cart. She could smell the fat sizzling on the burner, and her mouth watered for a taste of the cooking meat. Mmmm.

  "I'll do what I can, but it all depends on your problem." Essie leaned on her crystal-topped walking stick. It looked like a wizard’s staff. Her dark tunic and trousers only added to the effect.

  Iraine nodded. She'd expected Essie to say something like that, but right now, she had food on the brain, and thoughts of biting into a juicy hunk of meat consumed the bulk of her attention. Iraine stepped up to the yawning cook and noted his station was reasonably clean. Good, because she was too hungry to seek out another vendor.

  "I'll have some of that." She pointed to the chicken roasting on a spit over a red-glowing crystal.

  "Make that two. It looks quite good," Essie added from behind her.

  After they received their order—which came on a stick with a basket of fried potatoes and onions—they found a table and sat down to eat.

  "Well, don't keep me in suspense. What do you need?" Essie asked after Iraine had bolted her first meal in only God knew how many hours.

  In between sips of a piping hot tea, Iraine explained, leaving only the bird creatures’ intelligence and their ability to talk out. A promise was a promise, but there was no harm in telling Essie those creatures were with the man she needed to find.

  "Let me see the feather." Essie held out a tattooed hand for it and accepted it with a nod. "It's small, but there's a bit of magic in it." Essie raised an eyebrow at that. She knew Iraine hadn’t told her the whole story.

  “I found it by that object I told you about. Some of its magic must have transferred to it.” Iraine ate the last bite of potato and hoped her lie went unnoticed. That feather was magical because it had come from a magical creature, but that wasn't something Essie needed to know. Iraine glanced about for a napkin but didn't find one.

  “Here take this,” Essie handed her a napkin.

  “Thanks. Won’t that bit of magic help with what I need you to do?” Iraine wiped her hands and set the napkin down. It was
now or never. Either Essie would cast the finder spell for her or not.

  "It may." As Essie turned the tiny black feather over, shimmering threads wound around her fingers and the feather, uniting them into a strange weaving. "You're a strange one. The good book says not to suffer a witch, but you do more than suffer one. You're paying for my services." Essie's eyes settled on the three crosses around Iraine's neck.

  Iraine touched them. They were her touchstones in troubled times, but this wasn't one of those. The Guards were where she belonged just not their prison unit. She could do the most good in a higher echelon of their brotherhood, and wasn't that what life was all about? Doing the most good you could before you kicked the bucket?

  Well, Iraine had a lot of good she intended to do. "You know me. Whatever will get the job done. Besides, what's a little magic between friends, hmm?"

  "Oh, so now we're friends." Essie fought a grin and lost. Her faded green eyes crinkled at the corners. But the shadow of her hood kept people from noticing their odd color.

  "We are sharing a meal. I don't usually break bread with people I'm not friends with."

  "Touché." Essie fell silent, and all emotions fled her face. She sat so still; she looked like a woman carved from wood.

  "Have you got anything yet?" Iraine extended her hand and rested it on the old witch's forearm to remind her she wasn't alone.

  "Oh, I think I might have something but not what you were hoping for."

  "Let me be the judge of that. Tell me what you see."

  The old woman's eyes had gone as blank as the stone floor. Her irises and pupils seemed to melt into the whites of her eyes, and they took on a silvery glow. That glow slowly crept outward until it limned her in pure light.

  "Essie? What do you see?" Iraine shook the old witch's arm gently, and that opened the floodgates.

  "A Queen without a throne. A game of spells. A magic so twisted it—gah!" Essie fell forward and would have cracked her head open had Iraine not arrested her fall.

  "What happened? Are you okay?"

  "She bade me give you this." Essie shoved a silver leaf into Iraine's trembling hand.

  "Where did that come from? Who gave you this?" It couldn't be who Iraine thought it was, but who else could it be? There was only one tree that bore silver leaves—the Queen of All Trees.

  "Take it, and she bade me tell you this as well." Essie paused and seemed to gather herself.

  "Tell me what?" Iraine fingered the heart-shaped leaf. It was larger than her hand.

  "Come closer." Essie crooked her finger at Iraine. "This isn't for anyone's ears but yours."

  Iraine bent her head, and the world whited out in a blaze of glory.

  Chapter Ten

  What’s the plan? Crispin stopped when the transept ended and folded his arms. The stone ledge turned a sharp right and followed a new tunnel, but not in the direction their quarry had gone. The thief was perhaps fifty man-lengths ahead and the gap was widening.

  We follow that thief. The plan hasn’t changed. But it was about to. Eight warm bodies popped up in his scan. Thing had pulled his range in to keep from brushing against the creature inside the shards. Seven of those bodies were mundane, but the eighth had some power. They all stood around waiting for something. Were they waiting for the thief?

  Interesting. Thing flapped harder to make up the distance.

  What’s so interesting? What do you sense? Crispin strained to catch up. Curiosity spurred him on, and maybe a little envy.

  Thing rolled his owlish eyes. Kits today. They wanted to know everything now, now, now. They couldn’t wait to see what developed. Maybe he was being a tad harsh though. He’d grown up in the enchanted forest, not in a subterranean city. Thing put those thoughts away and concentrated on flying as fast and silently as he could.

  Dad?

  I’m not sure what I sense. Something isn’t right. I need to get closer. Because a cursory scan of the eight minds waiting around in the cavern that encompassed the prison wasn’t giving him any answers. The seven Guardswomen didn’t know why they’d been ordered to stop and stand by a bridge.

  And the eighth mind—Thing screeched involuntarily when his mind slammed into the dark veil over that man. He pulled his mind back into his mental shell and slammed the doors to his mind closed. A dark force crashed into that door but couldn’t find purchase. Nor could it crack his manifold shields. Each one buttressed the other allowing them to flex when struck.

  The dark creature—a demon maybe? – receded, and Thing opened his shields a little. When no attack came, he extended his thoughts to his son. Are you okay?

  Yes, I’m just shaken. So are my shields. I’m so glad you taught me to layer them like an onion. Crispin sent an image of his mental shields. They shimmered whitely just on the edge of visibility, like a transparent onion.

  Thing’s shields also glowed white, but his were many times brighter because he was the mind mage of the family.

  What was that creature? Please tell me it’s not a demon. Crispin flew even with him through a tunnel that had no cells just caves transformed into offices.

  I think it was, but not like the one we faced many months ago. This one is weaker and cannot take physical form for long. I think it’s tethered to those shards or trapped somehow by them. Thing glanced into each office as he passed, but there were no Guards in them, just empty chairs standing by empty desks. Perhaps they were new offices.

  Where are the Guards? Crispin sent. They can’t all be ferrying bodies to the infirmary. Water rushed by somewhere ahead.

  Seven of them are waiting on the other side of the river. The thief had reached the exit. Thing didn’t see or sense any other Guards nearby, but there had to be some around here somewhere.

  They might leave sections of this place temporarily unguarded if they were shorthanded, Crispin suggested as their mark sped through the open gates.

  I did attack them twice, Thing reminded his son, but his claws had been retracted. Besides, he’d only wanted to drive them away, not hurt them. After all, they were Nulthir’s work tribe.

  The door warden didn’t react to the thief nor to the gray bag slung over his shoulder because his job wasn’t to stop people from leaving. So, the fellow in gray robes ducked under the portcullis and out onto the stone bridge over the moat. Once across, he slowed for a parley.

  Thing swooped down to fly under the portcullis, and Crispin followed close behind him. The door warden shouted something and threw the lever to shut the gates, but they were already through them. Silly human, thinking he was faster than a bird in flight. Thing shook his head. Humans were weird creatures.

  But the shouting had drawn unwanted attention to him and his son. Nine pairs of eyes—not counting the Guard who’d just shut himself inside the prison gates—locked onto them. The war women unsheathed their swords.

  Climb, Thing shouted. He looped his tail around his son’s arm and flapped hard for the cluster of lumir crystals in the ceiling. They stuck out at crazy angles providing plenty of places to perch, and they were bright too. They glowed a soft, soothing pink that leeched some of the tension below as Thing landed on one of the milky pink spars highest in the cluster. The crystals below his chosen perch hid him and his son from view. He released Crispin and held one finger to his beak to signal for silence.

  Below, the Guardswomen returned their swords to their sheaths, thanks to a little mental encouragement. We’re harmless birds, not worth your time, Thing whispered in all seven of their minds, and they agreed with him. Good.

  Thing peered out of the eyes of the Guardswoman closest to the yellow-robed man. Her mind identified him as a flesh mender, which was a kind of healer who healed people without magic.

  Interesting, that man was posing as mundane when he wasn’t. Then again, Nulthir was doing the same thing every time he left his flat. It was an irksome lie necessitated by a stupid law someone should have repealed long ago. Thing cast that thought away and concentrated on the conversation such as it was
.

  Both robed men were whispering, but there was a spell over them that garbled their speech so no one could overhear. Thing couldn't enter their minds either without provoking that demonic presence again. Stymied, he ground his beak.

  Shadows rose from the bag as the gray-robed man unslung it, and those shadowy wisps rose like smoke toward Thing and his son.

  Shield! Thing shouted as he withdrew his mind from the Guardswoman and slammed closed his shields. He felt Crispin shut himself behind his shields too then the darkness assaulted them. It clawed at their shields but could not penetrate them. Nor could a creature of shadow withstand the concentrated light of their mind magic for more than a few moments before it dissipated and retreated into that bag and those strange shards.

  Look, they’re leaving. Crispin pointed. Indeed, the parley was breaking up, but the two parties were going their separate ways.

  You’re alright? Thing caught his son’s eye.

  Crispin gave him a thumbs up. Who do we follow? The yellow-robed guy or the gray-robed one? They’re both hip-deep in something bad. And that was a problem.

  The gray one. We know where the yellow-robed one is going—to the infirmary. Thing waited for both parties to exit the cavern through separate tunnels on adjacent walls then he leaped off the crystal and glided after the gray one.

  Right, and we still don’t know where the gray one is going. Crispin took a running leap off a crystal spar and spread his wings.

  You’re not going back? Thing glanced at him in confusion.

  Crispin shook his head. No, I'll see this through to the end. I have a bad feeling we’ve stumbled onto something big and dangerous.

  We might not be able to stop it. They were small, powerful creatures, but even they couldn’t take on more than one demon without a lot of help.