The Spell Realm (2 page)

Blaise smiled at her. “Yours will be the same, once you get the hang of it.”

She swallowed, her gaze shifting to the mountains again. “I don’t know if that’s true. My magic is too unpredictable. I hurt people with it. I killed all those men—”

“No,” Blaise corrected her. “You defended yourself. Those were soldiers of the Sorcerer Guard, not some innocent commoners. They would not have hesitated to kill you and anyone else who stood in their way. Do you know how many peasant rebellions they’ve crushed? How many lives they’ve taken? Those men live and die by the sword, and it was only fitting that they finally met a worthy opponent.” Blaise couldn’t bring himself to feel any sympathy for the soldiers who died trying to kill Gala. Every time he thought of it, he saw red. He wanted to rip apart anyone who tried to hurt her, and the violent urge was as strong as it was shocking.

Craving physical closeness, he pulled her into his embrace again, stroking her hair. She buried her face against his shoulder, sliding her arms around his waist, and he knew that she needed this as much as he did . . . that she also derived comfort from his touch.

He kept his arm around her as he continued loading the cards into the Stone. When all the tele-jumps were complete, they were only a few miles away from the mountains’ towering peaks.

Chapter 3: Augusta

Leaving her chambers, Augusta walked through the Tower halls. She felt cold and numb inside; it was as if a chill had seeped deep into her bones. Her eyes, however, were dry. She had cried all the tears that she could.

Barson was dead, killed by the creature Blaise had summoned.

Augusta walked faster, pushing the images of the bloody, shattered mirror out of her mind. Even after the healing spell she’d done on her hands, they still ached slightly, and she wondered if some tiny glass fragments had gotten lodged under her skin.

Entering the Council Hall, she gazed around the huge empty chamber. The Hall was considered one of the most beautiful rooms in the Tower, with murals covering the walls and ceiling. It was said that some of these drawings were created by Lenard the Great himself—the man who had discovered the Spell Realm. Like many of the most talented sorcerers, Lenard had been a polymath, excelling in everything from music to architecture.

Although the room had been originally constructed as a central gathering place for all inhabitants of the Tower, the Council had gradually taken it over, using it for their meetings and other Council-sponsored events. On the far side of the room, near the stained-glass windows, thirteen intricate thrones stood in a circular formation around a large marble table—one throne for each member of the Council. The front and center of the room were empty, to allow for maximum-strength soundproofing spells. It was all but impossible to eavesdrop on a Council meeting, although ambitious acolytes still kept trying.

In the corner of the room, a large iridescent gong hung from the ceiling. One of the few magical objects that preceded the Interpreter Stone, it was originally meant to be used as a warning system. One loud bang was all it took to warn the Tower occupants of danger. Now, however, the gong was only utilized to announce Council meetings.

Approaching it, Augusta picked up a small hammer lying beside it and hit the gong with all her strength. The resulting vibration nearly sent her to her knees. The sound echoed throughout the cavernous chamber, causing the walls to shake, and Augusta knew that every hallway in the Tower would be blasted by the noise.

Walking over to one of the thrones, Augusta sat down and waited for the confused Councilors to appear. Her heart was pounding with anticipation. These days, only Ganir used the gong; it was largely a ceremonial tool, a way for the Council members to remind everyone of their standing. When the acolytes heard the loud sound, they knew that a meeting was about to occur—and that they still had a long way to go before they could aspire to be present at such a momentous occasion. Augusta found it extremely satisfying to use the gong herself, bypassing the usual protocol.

Within a quarter-hour, the Councilors began to gather. They trickled in one at a time, some angry, some puzzled. Augusta greeted them all calmly. “I will explain what’s going on when everybody arrives,” she kept saying whenever someone tried to press her for answers. When all members except Ganir were ensconced on their thrones, Augusta clapped her hands together and waited for the room to fall silent.

“Councilors,” she said in a clear, ringing voice. “I have called you here today because we are all in grave danger—”

“Excuse me, Augusta, shouldn’t we wait for Ganir?” Dania interrupted. The librarian of the Council, the old woman was also a notorious ally of the Council Leader. Augusta wasn’t surprised Dania was the one to challenge her.

“Ganir is aware of the situation,” Augusta said dismissively. She was only partially lying. The old sorcerer knew of the threat Blaise’s monster posed, but he didn’t know that the Sorcerer Guard—and Augusta’s lover among them—had been brutally slaughtered. And that was fine with Augusta. The last thing she wanted was for Ganir to prevent her from telling the truth to the Council again.

Dania frowned, but didn’t say anything else as Augusta began her explanation. “Councilors, I asked you to gather here today—”

“What is the meaning of this?” This time it was Ganir’s voice that interrupted the proceedings as the Council Leader entered the hall, a deep frown on his wrinkled face.

Augusta stared at him, sudden bitter hatred welling up in her chest. “They’re dead,” she said harshly. “The creature killed them all.”

Ganir blanched, looking stunned, and shocked murmurs filled the room.

“Who killed whom?” Jandison asked, frowning. The teleportation expert was even older than Ganir and known for his blunt approach.

Augusta took a deep breath. “Let me start from the beginning,” she said, watching Ganir’s expression darken with displeasure. “I’m afraid that our esteemed Council Leader and I are guilty of a grave error of judgment—”

Ganir’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. It was too late for him to stop Augusta, and he knew it.

“—an error that cost the Sorcerer Guard their lives,” Augusta continued, watching the Councilors’ reaction to her words. “Because we hesitated—because we wanted to protect one of our own—we allowed evil to flourish and paid the price for our mistake.”

“The Sorcerer Guard are dead?” Moriner’s face was utterly colorless, his voice shaking, and Augusta remembered that his son Kiam was among the Guard—that he had to be one of the casualties of the slaughter.

She nodded, feeling pity for his loss. She’d heard that father and son were not on the best of terms, but it didn’t matter. Kiam had still been Moriner’s own flesh and blood. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I saw it with my own eyes. The creature murdered them all.” And in the stunned silence that followed, she told them all about Blaise’s creation, Ganir’s spies’ reports, and the steps she and Ganir had taken to contain the situation. The only thing she omitted was her request to Barson to kill the creature instead of bringing it in—and that she had not destroyed the notes of Lenard the Great that she’d found in Blaise’s study.

The room erupted with questions. “Is that what happened to my overseer Davish?” Kelvin exclaimed. “I had to remove him from his post because he was changing things too much—”

“How is this possible?” Dania asked, interrupting Kelvin’s diatribe. “How could such a thing have come into being?”

Ganir, who had been silent until then, stepped forward. “I believe I have some idea,” he said quietly, and everyone immediately fell silent. “You know my theory that the mind is essentially the inner workings of the brain?”

“Are you talking about the pattern-recognizing units in the brain? The ones called neurons?” Dania asked, apparently intrigued.

“Yes, that’s what I’m talking about,” Ganir confirmed. “I believe that children develop a unique network of neurons based on their experiences in the world. And I think that Blaise re-created this process artificially. He created neurons—or something that functions just like them—in the Spell Realm, and then, rather than having this mind grow up as a child would, he simulated her experiences by using Life Capture recordings.” Much to Augusta’s disgust, Ganir’s eyes were bright with excitement. He really did find the creature fascinating. “Thus he cultivated a fully functioning intelligence in a span of slightly less than a year.”

“Yes,” Augusta interjected, “an inhuman creature of unimaginable potential for evil, as unlike us as this Interpreter Stone.” And she held up her own Stone for them to see.

“You’re forgetting one thing, Augusta,” Ganir said, his eyes flashing with anger. “This inhuman creature, as you call her, had her mind shaped by human experiences and is, for all intents and purposes, very much like a human girl—”

“But that’s the horror of it, don’t you see?” Augusta said, looking at the faces surrounding her. “Blaise himself didn’t know what his creation would look like. He had no idea it would look like us. And it’s very, very far from being like a human girl. What human girl could destroy an entire army in such a brutal manner?”

“How did she do it?” Moriner asked, his voice filled with fury. “How did she manage to kill them all?”

Augusta hesitated for a moment, then walked over to a Life Capture Sphere that was sitting on the marble table. It was best if they saw the truth with their own eyes. Pricking her finger, she pressed it against the Sphere and concentrated, visualizing the horrors she had seen in the mirror. When she was done reliving the battle in her mind, she touched her still-bloody finger to the Sphere and waited for the droplet to appear.

When it was formed, she picked up the droplet and handed it to Moriner. Then she explained how the droplet could be recycled, taking vindictive pleasure in revealing Ganir’s little secret. The Council Leader didn’t say a word, but Augusta knew that he was angry; she could see it in the hard glitter of his eyes.

Taking the droplet, Moriner created one of his own by repeating Augusta’s actions with the Sphere. When he was done, his face was even paler, and his hands trembled as he handed the new droplet to the next Council member.

By the time everyone had a chance to view Augusta’s memories, the mood in the Gathering Hall was grim and somber. Blaise’s creation was no ordinary sorceress. That much was clear to all.

Capitalizing on their state of shock, Augusta stepped forward. “Blaise created that being whose destructive power you just witnessed,” she said, looking around the room. She needed to get the majority of the Council on her side now, to make sure they supported her in what she wanted to do. “Blaise created it,” she repeated, “and Ganir and I allowed our feelings for Blaise to cloud our judgment. We gave Blaise a chance to come to his senses, to undo the damage, but he seems to be under this monster’s spell. He is infatuated with his own creation, and he has lost all sense of right and wrong. We should’ve never tried to bring her in alive—”

“Well, I can see why Ganir would want to examine this creature, despite the obvious dangers,” Dania jumped in again, and Augusta frowned at her. She despised blind loyalty, and the old woman’s unflagging allegiance to Ganir was deeply irritating.

Jandison raised his hand, silencing Dania. “What’s done is done. Now the matter is in our hands, and we must come up with a solution.”

“There is only one outcome I see,” Kelvin said, his thin-lipped mouth tight with anger. Augusta imagined he wasn’t too pleased with the creature’s exploits in his territory. “We join forces and kill the thing and its creator.”

Augusta swallowed. This was exactly what she was hoping for, but the ugly starkness of those words made her chest ache. Despite the horrific results of Blaise’s actions, the idea of him dying—or even being in danger—was still as painful as ever.
Be strong
, she reminded herself. If she had done this from the beginning, Barson would still be alive.

In response to Kelvin’s statement, Ganir rose to his feet. “No,” he said vehemently. “We can’t do that.”

“You suggest we do nothing?” Kelvin asked acidly.

“Officially, Blaise is still a member of this Council.” Ganir’s voice was filled with barely restrained emotion. “He was never formally removed from his position. Killing him would be the same thing as killing one of us.”

Despite her inner turmoil, Augusta almost smiled at those words. The Council Leader had clearly spoken without thinking. Gina, the newest Council member who took Blaise’s place, appeared more than a little upset by his statement. An ambitious and talented sorceress, she had to be irritated to hear that her spot on the Council was ‘unofficial,’ and Augusta had a strong suspicion Gina would now be firmly on Augusta’s side.

“Ganir is right,” Jandison said, surprising Augusta. The old man rarely agreed with Ganir on anything. “If we were just talking about the fate of this creature, I would have no hesitation, but a Council member . . .”

“Why don’t we compromise?” Augusta suggested. In a strange way, she felt relieved that the discussion had taken this turn. “Let’s destroy the creature and offer Blaise the honor of the trial that is his right.” It was an alternative that she could live with: the abomination dead and Blaise judged for his actions. It wasn’t necessary for Blaise to die if the Council chose to grant him mercy—as long as he could be prevented from making another monster.