The Spell Realm (9 page)

Crouching next to the man, Blaise pulled out his Interpreter Stone and a few spell cards, and began preparing a healing spell.

“What are you doing, sorcerer?” the man asked harshly, watching Blaise’s efforts.

“Planning to heal your wound, of course,” Blaise replied, continuing to write. “We need to get back to the camp, and your injuries will slow us down.”

Shram frowned, but didn’t voice any objections as Blaise finished writing and loaded the appropriate cards into his stone. As soon as the spell began working, Shram gasped, his eyes opening wide. Blaise knew what he was feeling—immediate relief from the pain. Pain that must’ve been quite bad, judging by the size of the wound. The bearwolf had literally torn out a chunk of Shram’s flesh—flesh that was now healing.

A few minutes later, the bleeding had stopped, and the injury was gone.

Slowly rising to his feet, Shram touched his arm, the expression on his face oscillating between wonder and resentment. Blaise got up too, and was about to walk away when Shram reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Thank you, sorcerer,” he said gruffly. “For this and for saving my life earlier.”

And before Blaise could react, the man walked away, apparently as uncomfortable with this scene as Blaise himself.

Chapter 12: Augusta

On the morning of the vote, Augusta woke up groggy and with a massive headache. She had scarcely slept, tossing and turning all night long, thinking of the impending vote. Every time she drifted off, she dreamed of Barson, images of his death dancing in front of her eyes.

Crawling out of bed, she forced herself to write a healing spell for her headache, so she could get a semblance of a clear mind. Sleep deprivation was one of the few things they hadn’t quite figured out how to combat with spells; nobody fully understood the physiological process behind sleep and how it helped the human body.

Once her temples were no longer throbbing, Augusta dressed and got ready. Walking through the Tower halls, she could see the apprentices looking at her with curiosity. The entire Tower was buzzing with rumors and speculation about the upcoming meeting. As she approached the Council Hall, she heard the gong that announced the start of the meeting.

Most of the Councilors were already gathered inside, and Augusta nodded at them in greeting as she walked over to sit down on her throne. Ganir was already there; as usual, he was the one who had used the gong. Dania was there too, looking uncomfortable and guilty. Augusta guessed that she was not happy about her task.

Once Kelvin and Furak arrived, the vote began.

It was a custom as old as the office of the Sorcerer Council itself. Each Councilor had a voting stone that would need to be teleported into one of the voting boxes—red box for Yes, blue one for No. The boxes stood on the Scales of Justice in the middle of the large marble table. When the vote was complete, the weight of the stones would force the Scales to tip in whichever direction the vote was leaning. Afterwards, each of the voting stones would get summoned back to its original owner.

The process was supposed to be both fair and anonymous, and Augusta wondered again how Blaise had learned how she’d voted at his brother’s trial.

Ganir sat there silently instead of addressing everyone like he usually did. Looking away from him, Augusta caught Jandison’s gaze. He gave her a barely perceptible nod and got up.

“Those in favor of taking action against the creature, vote Yes,” Jandison said, addressing the Council in a loud voice. “If we get a No vote, we will discuss what the next option will be.”

Perfect, Augusta thought. The choices were something unknown versus a clearly defined action. It was human nature to avoid uncertainty. Jandison really was completely on her side, and for the first time, Augusta wondered if he did have what it took to lead the Council in Ganir’s stead.

At Jandison’s signal, she teleported her voting stone into the red box and waited, holding her breath. A few seconds later, the Scales of Justice tipped, the red box lowering under the weight of the stones.

The fate of Blaise’s abomination was sealed.

“It’s done,” Jandison said. “We’ll reconvene to decide what our next move should be.”

The expression on Ganir’s face was frightening in its stillness. Augusta could sense the fury burning within him, but he didn’t say anything to anyone.

Instead, the Council Leader got up and left the room.

* * *

Exhausted but triumphant, Augusta made her way back to her quarters. Entering her bedroom, she began to disrobe wearily, desperately needing some rest. There was still a lot to be done—spells to be written, plans to be solidified—but right now, Augusta was only capable of collapsing on her bed.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of movement. Whirling around in panic, she stared at the dark shadow in the corner, her heart climbing into her throat.

Before she could even begin to chant a protective spell, the figure stood up and stepped into the light.

It was Barson—the man she’d thought she lost.

Chapter 13: Gala

Waking up the next morning, Gala tried to remember her dream, but the specifics of it eluded her. All she could recall was a feeling of curiosity and awe, as though she’d learned something amazing.

Getting up, she became aware that she was alone in the tent—and that she could hear excited chatter outside. Straightening her hair and clothes, she stepped out of the tent, intrigued by the little tidbits she’d managed to overhear.

“Did you say ‘bearwolves?’” she asked, approaching a small group that included Maya, Esther, Blaise, and a few of the hunters.

“Oh, yes, Gala, you will not believe what happened,” Esther exclaimed. “We were attacked last night by these . . . these creatures!”

“What creatures?” Gala stared at them in surprise.

“These wolf-bear hybrids that some sorcerer created a long time ago. They apparently prospered in the Dark Woods,” Maya said, her voice filled with fearful excitement. “From the way the men described them, we are lucky that Blaise was standing watch and heard them before they got to our camp—”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t have attacked such a large camp,” Blaise broke in, looking uncomfortable. “And besides, everyone participated in scaring them off.”

“Yes,” Kostya said, coming up to the group. “But it was your spell that made it possible. And I wouldn’t be too sure that they wouldn’t have attacked the camp. We’ve had interactions with these beasts before, and it’s never ended well. They’re bold, these creatures, and a single animal has been known to kill upwards of five men. With a pack that large, they could’ve destroyed half of our village.”

Blaise still appeared reluctant to take credit for whatever it was that occurred last night. “I’m just glad I could help,” he told Kostya. “And if there is anything I can do to help protect your village from future danger, please let me know. Maybe there are some spells I could implement to keep these beasts away from your settlement.”

“That would be great,” Kostya said, apparently no longer as wary of sorcery. “We would appreciate it.”

Burning with curiosity, Gala looked at the group. “What are these bearwolves?” she asked. “What happened? Please, tell me the whole story.”

And for the next twenty minutes, she listened in shock as the hunters described their nighttime adventures and the inventive way Blaise defended them from the creatures. “Why didn’t you wake me?” she asked Blaise. “Surely I could’ve helped—”

“No.” He shook his head. “You’ve been through enough. I was not about to put you in danger again—not if I could help it.”

Gala stared at him, unsure how she felt about Blaise’s protectiveness. “But you were in danger yourself,” she protested. “You and the rest of the people here—”

“Gala . . .” Blaise stepped closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I was able to handle it, all right? Please, don’t worry about it. It’s over. Let’s just pack up and get to the village before we have to spend another night here.”

And with that, he lowered his arms and walked off to join the men who were disassembling the tents, leaving Gala frowning after him.

* * *

It took them several hours to finally reach Alania. If not for the chance meeting with these men, Gala doubted they would have ever stumbled upon these dwellings. The houses were small and hidden among the trees, blending into the landscape so well that they were almost invisible. They were generally made of wood, with roofs that were covered with vines and other types of plants. There were no fields of any kind surrounding the village, and Gala didn’t see any signs of domesticated animals. As Kostya had told them, hunting and gathering fed the village.

When they reached a larger dwelling in the center of the village, Kostya announced that it was his home. “That’s my wife, Liva,” he said, stepping inside and gesturing toward a stocky woman sitting at the kitchen table.

Surprised, Liva stood up. “Who are these people?” she asked her husband, eying them with curiosity.

“Liva, please meet Esther, Gala, Maya and Blaise,” he answered. “We met them in the forest and invited them to join us here, in Alania.”

A welcoming smile appeared on Liva’s broad face in response. “Oh, more refugees? Excellent! Glad you were able to make it through the woods. The last time someone came here was that lovely young woman, Ara—and that was almost two years ago.”

“They’re not exactly refugees,” Kostya said. “You’ve heard of Blaise, haven’t you?”

Liva frowned. “Blaise? As in, the sorcerer?”

“That’s the one,” Kostya said. “These people are his companions.”

“Oh.” Liva seemed nonplussed for a moment, then recovered quickly. “Well, regardless, welcome. We are pleased to have you here. I trust that you had a good journey?”

“We did,” Blaise said, smiling at her. “And thank you for offering us your hospitality. I can assure you that I mean you no harm.”

“I figured as much,” Liva said calmly. “Otherwise Kostya wouldn’t have brought you here. Can I offer you something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry, thank you,” Blaise said. “But I’m sure Gala, Esther, and Maya would appreciate a meal.”

“Thank you, we would,” Esther said. “And you should eat too, Blaise. Liva, can I help you prepare something?”

“Wife, I need to go out on a hunt again,” Kostya interrupted. “Is it all right if I leave our visitors with you?”

“Of course. I’ll take care of them.” Liva made a shooing motion toward the door, and Kostya swiftly exited the house. Gala got the impression he was uncomfortable dealing with so many guests and preferred to leave that task to his wife.

As soon as he was gone, Liva turned toward Esther. “I would welcome some help,” she said with a smile, answering Esther’s earlier question. “I never turn down an offer of another pair of hands in the kitchen.”

“Excellent,” Maya jumped in. “Then let me offer my services as well.” And before a minute had passed, all three women were companionably cutting up some roots and vegetables and throwing them in a skillet coated with something that smelled like fried meat.

Gala remained silent, quietly observing everything. She was fascinated by these people and their way of life. There was also something in the house that made her feel strange. It wasn’t long before she realized that she was sensing a spell of some kind. She didn’t know what the spell was supposed to do, but she could feel it in the room.

“What’s that spell you’re using?” she asked Liva, speaking for the first time. She assumed it was Liva doing it, since Blaise hadn’t had a chance to write or say anything.

Liva turned toward her slowly. “Whatever do you mean, child?” she asked, as though she didn’t know. However, her pupils were dilated, and Gala saw her fingers twitch slightly. These were signs that she wasn’t being truthful, Gala guessed. Did Liva feel uncomfortable with the topic?

Gala thought about changing the subject to accommodate the woman, but she was too curious. “Is the spell intended to lift people’s spirits or cure minor ills?” she persisted, trying to figure out what exactly she was feeling.

Liva looked both amazed and scared. “How do you know this?” she asked, staring at Gala in awe.

Gala shrugged, uncertain of how to explain it. She could feel spells sometimes, as if a part of her was attuned to the changes in the fabric of the Physical Realm that resulted from sorcery.

“Are you a sorceress?” Blaise asked Liva, regarding their hostess with surprise.

“I’m not a sorceress,” Liva denied. “I just dabble with some spells, that’s all. No one knows about it—not even my husband.” She paused, giving Blaise and Gala a pleading look. “And I would like to keep it that way, if you don’t mind. Sorcerers are not exactly liked around these parts.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Maya said reassuringly. “We’ll keep your secret. I don’t know why you feel the need to conceal your gift, but we respect your right to do so.”

“Yes, we do,” Esther chimed in, and Gala and Blaise nodded their agreement.

“Good.” Apparently considering the matter closed, Liva went back to chopping the vegetables.