Enchantress Under Fire, page 19
part #4 of Arcane Artisans Series
I suspected Geralt was trying to keep ahead of the breakdown in magic. By killing his most powerful people, he reduced the number of enchanters drawing power into themselves. The horseshoe pit wasn’t big enough for many bodies, though.
Two pieces of information collided in my mind. Geralt had taken a number of mysterious trips over the past year. If he’d taken some of those powerful enchanters with him, he might have sacrificed them the same way he planned to kill me, to rebalance magic in areas where it had grown too volatile. Their power wouldn’t be sufficient to do much, but if the problem was as dire as he’d claimed, he might have thought it worth the cost. I’d have to ask Fael about Geralt’s trips, and whether they coincided with people being recruited into “special training.”
I had barely passed the second horseshoe stake when a lean, dark-haired man stepped out from behind a big boulder between me and the path. “Playing a game?” asked Vince, his voice deadly cold.
Ice formed under my skin. “I was going to try,” I said, keeping my voice carefully even. “But there are no horseshoes.”
“No. There aren’t.” He stepped toward me.
“Do you need something?” I asked, retreating, ransacking my brain for an excuse to get away. “To be honest, I’m kind of uncomfortable being off here by myself with a guy, so ...”
“Does that not apply to Fael? The two of you seem to have grown close.”
How the hell did Vince know that? “He’s a friend, but that’s it.”
“So these quiet, intense conversations the two of you have are about ... what? Board games?”
“You’d be surprised how intense board games can get.”
“I’m sure. You’ve been winning an awful lot.”
“How do you know? You haven’t been around the compound.”
“Yes, I have. I’ve watched. Not just you. Everyone. I look for patterns. I study timelines of what happened and when. And I’ve noticed that board games are about the only thing where you seem to be winning, Marcela Rodriguez.”
The ice had started burrowing down through my pores, freezing me to the core. “What do you mean?”
“Estimates of your magical potential are pitiful. Your skillsets listed on your profile are rudimentary and commonplace. You fail to help your patrol teams in any meaningful way. You are a spectacularly unspectacular individual, Marcela. No one is that mediocre.” He took another step, his long legs shortening the distance between us. I could almost touch him.
“Sure they are,” I said. I stepped back again, this time letting myself nearly trip over the horseshoe backboard. Let Vince think I was nervous. It would help sell my weak persona. It also happened to be true. “Lots of people aren’t any good at things. I just happen to be one of them.”
“Lots of people are mediocre,” said Vince. “But you are not just a regular person. You are an enchantress. Our kind are not mediocre. Not without trying. And you, Marcela, are trying very, very hard to be unremarkable.”
My heart was racing almost as fast as my thoughts. Had I actually blown my cover by making it too good? “I’m great at math,” I said, improvising. “Let me show you some differential equations someday.”
Vince smiled thinly, and I half-expected a forked tongue to emerge. “I did find one remarkable thing about your record, Marcela. Your patrol teams have engaged the enemy a number of times, yet somehow you’ve failed to deal a single blow to one of them. You walked away from a Void and nearly let her escape. A pack of shifters nearly killed Meg in the street, and you heard and saw nothing. After so many weeks with the Family, sheer probability would demand that you’d do something of use, but you’ve managed to avoid it somehow.”
“I saved Sydney from being shot by a Void,” I argued. “That’s useful.”
“You tackled Sydney out of his path.”
“Yes.”
“And why didn’t you tackle the Void himself, instead of clearing his way to freedom?” He took one more step, bringing him within striking distance. He leered down at me, his teeth brilliant white where afternoon sunlight dappled his face. His green eyes looked like the gaze of a shark watching a baby seal. “And now I find you out here, all alone, poking around where your teammate was recently punished for trespassing. I imagine if I go check the leaves around the utilities building, I’ll find some of them have been disturbed.” His hand snapped out, viper fast, and seized my wrist. “You should have fled when things started heating up. But you got greedy, and now you’re caught, little subversive.”
My sense of the area’s magic began to dim, and I realized Vince was drawing it in. I didn’t know what he planned to do to me, but I knew I couldn’t let him finish. I seized a small amount of the magic around us, drawing it into myself. Vince’s grip on my hand stiffened in surprise. I didn’t let him have a moment to think.
The magic channeled down my arm and into Vince through his grip on my wrist. The back of his hand gave off smoke as an enchantment tattoo twisted itself onto his skin. Vince cried out in surprise and pain. His hand yanked back from mine, its fingers freezing into a stiff claw. He struggled to bend his knuckles. When he found he couldn’t, he swiped the splayed nails at my face. “You die for that!”
More magic held ready, I ducked aside. I’d been avoiding fleshwriting as much as possible while here, instead placing enchantments on objects, other people, and my surroundings. But I needed a weapon, fast, and the surrounding forest gave me no good options. I’d have to enchant myself, and pray I didn’t destroy my sanity in the process.
Gritting my teeth, I focused the magic through my thoughts, concentrating with all my might on the first image that came to mind–a long, thin sword Desmond used in mock fights at Renaissance Faires. I kept it simple, no embellishment, no fancy engraving. Clean. Utilitarian. Rest in my hand, I chanted, picturing the blade as clearly as if I saw it before my eyes. Come when summoned, vanish when dismissed.
I felt the magic sweep down my arm, channeling through my body and targeting itself on my palm. Thrills shot through me as the magic took form, becoming a circling line on my skin. Heat scalded my hand where the tattoo appeared, like the brief touch of a hot pan.
Then the magic lanced out from the tattoo. Threads of light sketched a shape in the air. That shape took on solid weight, and my fingers closed around what felt like a leather-wrapped metal hilt. I stared down at the magical blade I’d conjured. Unlike the weapons I’d conjured from bracelets and other jewelry, I could feel this sword’s connection to the tattoo on my palm, as if the weapon were an extension of my own body.
It felt glorious.
I brandished the blade as Vince swiped his clawed hand at me again. But rather than back off, he laughed. “Fancy work, little enchantress. But that’s two enchantments you just crafted in a row. That ache between your eyes means you’ve tapped your miniscule power out. I hope you know how to use that thing, because it’s the last magic you’ll manage to channel.”
“My eyes aren’t aching, Vince.”
“You’re a good liar, I’ll give you that.” Vince’s face took on a look of concentration. I knew that look–he was performing an enchantment. I swept the blade at his ankles, hoping he’d remain distracted. But fleshwriting was performed at the speed of thought. Though it felt like it took ages to enchant something myself, in real time it took only heartbeats. Vince leaped my sword and bashed his hand downward at my head. In his fingers I spotted the ethereal light of a conjured weapon, though I didn’t have time to identify it.
I went into a roll, releasing my blade so I didn’t impale myself. I landed on one knee, hand extended as my sword flashed back into being. I looked up to see what Vince had conjured.
At first I thought it was a strangely shaped club. But then he flipped the weapon around in his hand. A translucent, round barrel pointed straight at my face.
He pulled the trigger.
I dove for cover.
A ball of magical energy shot from the translucent barrel and caught me in the side of the neck. I cried out, clapping my free hand to the wound, and landed on my side in the dirt. Blood dripped from the graze in my skin, soaking the collar of my t-shirt. In my haze of pain the conjured sword disappeared from my hand.
Vince aimed the magic gun at me again and casually moved his finger to the trigger.
This wasn’t fair. A projectile weapon was a hundred times harder to conjure than a melee weapon. Vince shouldn’t have been able to produce that magic on the fly, not without breaking his own brain. He must have practiced it hundreds, thousands of times to be able to do it so quickly. And now he was about to kill me, thinking I was somebody else.
Before he could fire, something whizzed through the air and struck him in the side of the head. Vince recoiled, cursing, and turned to face this new threat.
Fael stood before a thick grove of trees, his hands upraised, his feet spread for combat. Twin ropes of magic snaked from his palms, the twisting lines reminiscent of the lines used on a sailboat. One lay coiled at his feet. The other stretched across the clearing, its end snapping like a whip. A welt marred Vince’s face where the magical rope had struck him.
“Leave her alone,” Fael said, his normally mellow voice now high and reedy.
Vince didn’t bother answering. Instead he just aimed the gun at Fael.
Angry rope slapped the barrel askew, and the shot went wild. Fael tensed his other arm, and the second rope leaped into action, arrowing across the field. It lashed itself around Vince’s throat and started to pull tight just as I made it to my feet.
Rather than struggle, Vince just aimed the gun into the rope and fired.
A shockwave of magic split the field. Leaves scattered as if in heavy wind. Sparks burst in the air, silent but twinkling like falling stars. The rope around Vince’s neck vanished, its raw end neatly severed by the gunshot. Fael gasped in pain as the enchantment tattoo on his palm suddenly faded. Both ropes disappeared as he clutched his injured hand to his chest.
Vince sighed. “I had hoped this was a one-person problem, but it seems I have to take two lives today.” He raised the gun again.
I was too far away to stop him with the sword. Fael was distracted by pain and shock. He was about to die.
Unless I took a risk and saved him. Unless I let him see the true extent of my power.
La Espectra wouldn’t have done it, but I wasn’t her anymore. I had chosen to try to save everyone if there was a possibility of success.
And in this case, there definitely was. Vince was wrong. I wasn’t anywhere near tapped out.
The magical shockwave had cleared a circle of ground around us. Rocks jutted from the dirt, and it was on them I targeted my thoughts. I gathered all the remaining magic I’d taken in, plus whatever else I could draw from the air, and spread my hands wide, trying to encompass as much of the area as I could with my mind. Become missiles, I chanted. Aim true. Slam my enemy to the ground.
Enchanting objects I wasn’t touching took a tremendous amount of concentration. My body shook and sweat broke out on my forehead. My teeth ground dust off each other.
But it still happened at the speed of thought, which made it fast enough.
All around the clearing, rocks rose out of the soil and loam. Teeny pebbles, all the way up to baseball-sized chunks, ascended into the air. Some rose higher than my head, and others stayed closer to the ground, creating a frozen rainfall of stones encircling me and the two men.
Vince went completely still, staring at the rocks surrounding him. He started to turn around to face me.
The rocks struck.
All at once, they shot toward Vince like hungry dogs loosed on a steak. They pelted him in the back, the legs, the sides, the head, leaving bruises and cracking bones. Vince immediately reacted, doing his best to dodge the largest ones, but there were too many for him to avoid them all. Distracted by the constant assault, he couldn’t even pause for the instant it would take to craft a counter-enchantment.
A fist-sized chunk of limestone smacked him in the back of the knee. His leg folded under him, dropping him to the ground. A rock that would certainly have knocked him out sailed over his head, but another struck his jaw. He’d barely caught his balance when a thin chunk of shale sliced a cut on his cheek and another buried itself in his biceps.
The rocks kept flying. Those that missed Vince turned around and flew at him again, while those that struck him dropped to the ground, forming the foundation of a cairn. Vince bled now from a dozen wounds, but his rage had fully kindled. He twisted on the ground so he faced me, and the feral hate in his eyes made me take a step back. “You,” he snarled. Heedless of the rocks continuing to pelt him, he aimed his gun at my chest.
I dove behind the horseshoe backboard as magical bullets assaulted the ground where I’d stood. Vince kept firing, following my path. Projectiles struck the ancient wood of the backboard, and the boards splintered around me. I covered my head, shielding my face from the flying wood and conjured bullets. Then I threw as much magic as I had left into a shield enchantment on my back.
Powerful blasts slammed into me. I felt each impact as it was absorbed by the shield, like muted punches to my kidneys, my lungs, my spine. Behind me, rocks still snicked through the air and made dull thuds where they struck Vince’s body. Above it all, he shouted. “It’s you! It has to be you! No one else has the magic to pull this off! Face me, Enchantress! I owe you for our last encounter! Geralt will give me a nation for this!”
His words were slurred, as if uttered through a swollen lip. Bullets kept slamming into my shield, and I could feel its magic weakening, being used up. A glance over my shoulder showed me the rock storm was winding down, with only a few dozen stones still swirling around, seeking an opportunity to hit their target.
Froth spewed from Vince’s bruised lips as he threw profanities at me. “I know who you are!” he shouted between curses. “I know who you are! I know who you–augh!”
A rope of light snaked around his throat, cutting off the words. Fael yanked on his remaining weapon, and Vince fell backward onto the ground, thrashing.
My last enchanted rocks seized the opportunity and dove on him. Dozens of meaty thuds sounded one after another, and I heard the distinct crack of a breaking bone. Vince gave a raspy, shuddering sigh.
Then all was quiet. Not even the birds chirruped in the trees.
Shaking, I got to my feet. The shield enchantment on my back had nearly been used up, and the magic from the rocks was depleted, bled back into the air to form a lazy, satisfied thrumming. I stumbled over to where Vince lay, half-buried in stones, Fael’s magical rope still wound around his throat.
Vince’s eyes were open and vacant, staring at the sky. His skull was a ruin of blood and flesh. I’d done that.
I had killed a man.
With magic.
My magic, my art, my soul, had taken a life.
Again.
I let myself feel the shame.
He had killed many, many people. He had tried to kill me, more than once. He had been about to kill Fael. If he had lived, he would have exposed me as a traitor to the cult, leading to my own death and the deaths of every Void within a hundred miles. His death was a good thing for all the rest of us who just wanted to survive.
Still. I had been the one to kill him. So I chose to grieve.
My hands were clutching fistfuls of dirt. I let them fall. Soil flecked my tennis shoes and caught in the upturned cuffs of my jeans. I brushed off my hands and probed the wound on my neck. Blood had stopped flowing from it, and the pain wasn’t too bad, but it would take some time to heal.
Across the clearing, Fael was staring at me, his magic rope vanished once more, his arms hugged tightly across his chest. He was trembling.
Time to see if my risk had paid off.
“We’re going to have to hide the body,” I said, my voice gentle. “If they find it, there will be an investigation. If they don’t, they’ll probably assume he’s gone off tracking targets in the city.”
Fael didn’t move. “Those things he was shouting, at the end ... you ... you’re ...”
“Fael, take a deep breath.”
He did, swallowing. “You just killed a man.”
“We did. You saw the fight. He was trying to kill me first.”
“Yes, but why? This isn’t supposed to be happening. I thought we’d be forming a kind of political faction, a group that could influence our leaders to be more humane. But now it’s a war. There’s no going back from this. We just began something that I don’t think should have started.”
“We didn’t begin it. Come here. I have to show you something.”
I took Fael to the utilities building. I showed him the supplies kept in the makeshift cell, the cramped box with no light and no fresh air, where prisoners had to pee in a bucket and drink water from an old, capless bottle.
Then I took him back to the horseshoe pit. I showed him the upturned earth. I tracked down enough splinters of the backboard to show him the bloodstains, old blood that clearly wasn’t from our battle. I watched him slowly understand that our leaders had been torturing and murdering people, our own people, probably since they’d arrived here. If not before. “Remember those trips Geralt kept taking? They coincided with people being recruited into ‘special training,’ didn’t they? Those recruited enchanters and enchantresses are all dead.”
“But why?” Fael asked. “Is it just a power thing? Is he afraid someone will challenge him?”
“No. If that was all, we could just kill Geralt and be done with it. But he isn’t the biggest problem. He’s right that magic is sick, Fael. It’s gathering into more and more powerful hotspots, leaving bigger and bigger empty spaces. Eventually the concentration of magic, both in the air and in individual people, will become so strong no human enchanter will be able to withstand it. The magic will burst out of them, and thousands will die. We’re seeing symptoms of it now with the whirlwinds that appear around the city and the way enchantments don’t follow their former rules. Geralt is taking people with strong magical potential, people who are the precursors to those explosions of magic, pouring a ton of magic into them, and then detonating that magic along with their own to try to even out the magical field. That’s his plan for saving the world.”
