​​​​​​​5 Magery Type Stuff

A DISTURBANCE OF air caused Threadfin to whirl. Gusts of black vapour burst from the stone walls coalescing into a silhouette in the corner. The lamps extinguished leaving the light cast by the window. Outside, a Tystrian dawn was brewing, grey and miserable.

‘What is you up to?’ asked a female voice. The silhouette resolved into a solid form. A young woman of sixteen or seventeen.

Threadfin turned back to the mirror. The reflection stared back, blanket in hand. The sword had vanished, but the mirror still had a crack. Not my imagination then. He covered it up. Were his visions returning? Could a vision crack a mirror? ‘I knew it was you.’

She giggled. ‘No, you didn’t. You was looking o’er your shoulder like a rabbit. I were the warg stalking you little rabbit.’ She laughed again, delighted with herself.

‘It’s good to see you, Cat,’ he conceded turning to her. ‘Still, you can tell her I’m capable of handling this. Without supervision.’

The viral teenager screwed up her face as she moved closer, placing hands to her cheeks. ‘Oh, my dearest lil bruvver,’ she cooed. ‘Oh, how I is worrisome for his withery flat backside. What if he goes an’ gets a big splinter in it?’ Tezcat’s laughed turned throaty. ‘Oh, you knows I is playin’. She worries over you somethin’ fierce. So does I.’

‘I know you do.’ He took her hands in his, wishing it was the two of them skulking in the dark streets of Lame again, up to mischief. He’d thought his existence worthless back then, and had been trying to escape. How things had changed. ‘Aiyana should not be sending you to keep an eye on me, though. I knew someone was watching.’

‘Doesn’t you ’member Lame?’

‘Not the same thing. I had no idea of the dangers I faced.’ Was she reading his mind as well?

‘You still doesn’t. That’s why she sends me.’

Seeing the way her mouth turned down, her eyes scanning the room, he knew this visit was more than it seemed. ‘What’s wrong? And don’t tell me it’s nothing. I know you better than you think.’

‘You likes her better, this girl?’ The undead soul pouted her lips, a look unnatural on her, and which made her seem younger, vulnerable. ‘I is yours sister, not her. I is yours guardian angel too. She won’t watch yours back when you is off doin’ stupid stuff. She gives you o fancy present and you forgets me?’

Threadfin gently rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs. Her skin, a mottled grey-green, felt cold and dry. Over the years, he’d grown to know and love Tezcat Licolo. The decay all virals faced hadn’t set in and not because of her youth as he’d once thought. It was by virtue of the fact she was a lost soul. Lost, and in desperate need for a family.

Back in Lame, he hadn’t known about the thousands of viralic souls all magically linked to his sister. He suspected Aiyana was trying to find a way to release them. What it meant for Tezcat, or Aiyana, he didn’t know. Not something he could fix. He needed to trust his sister could handle it. ‘Cat, you were all I had once. We had a lot of fun together. How could I ever forget you?’

‘You does ’member.’ She grinned up at him, but as quick as it had appeared, her smile resolved into a frown. ‘Who is she?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ he said with a sigh, letting go of her hands. ‘I’m sending her to Icarthya. Aiyana will take care of her.’ He’d dithered about sending the child via his talent through the mirror, but he’d drawn upon a lot of people lately, and he needed to save the magic he had.

‘I is good at gettin’ answers me. Gives me five minutes—’

‘No,’ he said quickly. ‘Look, Cat, there’s a dark stripe to you, and you know it. Hurting her is out of the question.’ He wasn’t certain Tezcat would succeed if she tried. Astra had a power unlike anything he’d come across. Funny, he’d once thought the same of Tezcat.

The viral girl’s face turned as innocent as she could make it. ‘You promised we’d have adventures, ’member? We doesn’t these days.’

‘The whole first month after I left Icarthya, I couldn’t move without stepping on you.’ Aiyana had felt vulnerable. Tezcat now visited less often, when she wasn’t spying that was. ‘Look, we will have adventures again, I promise.’

‘We’d better,’ she grunted, folding her thin arms, before laughing. ‘Remember the Tiralian increment? Now that were fun, weren’t it?’

‘The word is, incident, and it wasn’t my fault. You distracted me, turning those goats inside out. How was I supposed to concentrate? Damn things were still moving. One even managed to bleat!’

‘I bets the poor man never gots his copper form back neither.’

‘Corporeal form,’ Threadfin corrected, pacing. Wasn’t much furniture in his room, except for a diseased mattress in the corner. Virals didn’t sleep more than a few hours. The space was plenty of room for thinking though.

‘Yeah, likes what I said. His wife didn’t come back, neither. And don’t forgets ’bout the fire in them mountains. Still burnin’, though it don’t burn nothin’. Flames glow blue, ’member? Hey, you listenin’?’

Threadfin held a hand to his forehead. Aiyana was still upset about all of it. He wasn’t supposed to draw attention. Ordinary breathers weren’t used to having undead in their midst, never mind in the palace. They needed to win over the living, not give them reasons to ignite a rebellion. Easier said than done.

‘I ne’er did nothin’ so bad as all that stuff,’ said Tezcat. ‘There’s folk from south what speaks funny, come see them goats, and the fire.’

‘The goats were your fault.’

‘We should’ve started sellin’ tickets.’ She doubled over in hysterics.

Threadfin couldn’t help it, her good humour infectious. He took her hand and sat with her on the cot. As the dawn brightened, the room gained colour, and they laughed their heads off at all those crazing incidents. It had been ridiculous. His magical experiments had all been attempts to follow Lorn. All failed as if something or someone thwarted him. Every attempt ended in catastrophe. It was his reflection. He knew it, though it didn’t make sense. The girl, Astra, had mentioned something called a Fetch and that he must destroy it. Could it and his reflection be the same thing? His laughter died at those thoughts, although Tezcat continued snorting.

He stood, and moved to the window. A trader struggled in the mud below with a wagon full of wrinkled peppers. Rickety stalls and shacks lined the edges of the street. No boardwalks here, and there were few buyers in the Muck. Traders, who’d fallen out of favour with the primes, did business in this place. ‘Without the Shathra Stone I’m learning blind. I admit it. I don’t know what I’m at.’ As if I ever did.

Lorn had stolen it and run. When everyone else had stood and fought and died in her place. Something about her had infused him with feelings he didn’t understand. He needed to find her, to ask why. He needed to know. Between that and this business with his reflection and his faltering magic, he knew he had to try. One last big experiment. Oh, Podral is going to love this one.

His hand reached for the wrapped bundle in his belt pouch. His reptilian-like fingers probed it as his thoughts raced. ‘I’m leaving for Tiral,’ he announced, reaching a decision. ‘Cat, will you accompany Astra to Icarthya? Convince my sister it’s important. I know she won’t have the strength to have you watch her all the time. As much as she can.’ Aiyana, he’d learned, had the ability to give those souls solidity in this world as she had done for Tezcat. However, the magic required was draining. At most, she could only do it for a few hours at a time.

Tezcat stood and joined him at the window, clutching his arm. ‘And who’s watchin’ you?’

‘I have a Darken who I trust to keep my hide intact. He’s a good man, Cat. Don’t worry about me. You know, this girl is lost and alone like you used be.’

‘I never was,’ she muttered with a stubborn set to her jaw.

‘Please, will you do this? For me?’

She let go of his arm, grumbling to herself, wringing her hands. She didn’t trust him not to get into all sorts of bother. Especially without her there to laugh. A part of him wished she was going with him, but something about Astra worried him. It was another reason for not sending her through the mirror. The power Astra had displayed terrified him. He didn’t trust her anywhere near his magic, especially when his reflection was up to no good.

‘And you won’t try anything?’ he added. ‘You know, like torture or anything of the sort? You’ll be nice to her?’

She scowled, but nodded. ‘This isn’t gonna be no fun.’

He pushed back some strands of dull hair from her face. ‘I’ll miss having you along, Cat, believe me. We’ll do something together when I get back. Terrify some local farmers or something. I promise.’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘Will you send for Podral before you go? Tell him to bring one other, and whatever supplies we need. I’m leaving when he gets here.’

Before her form fell apart, she wrapped her arms about him in a hug. He squeezed her tight, feeling the bones of her body jutting into his. Then she was gone. Walking back to the mirror, he uncovered it again. Nervous, he studied the damaged surface.

I’m not ready, he realised, but was I ever? Living mages had studied entire lifetimes to gain safe use of spectralic magic. Threadfin, although undead, was winging it with a magic far more dangerous. He relied on instinct, luck. He didn’t trust his instincts, and luck never favoured him. Now his reflection, or this Fetch thing, was actively working against him.

Ten minutes later, Pole stuck his head around the door, screwing up his nose at the smell. ‘I’m not steppin’ through no Spectrum-forsaken mirrors. I swear I left some part of myself behind the last time.’

‘Your brains, which hasn’t done you any harm. Get in here.’

‘I’m warning you, Todder—’

‘It’ll be a piece of cake. You like cake. You know you do. Filled with cream and jam. Trust me.’

‘You get us lost again, and I swear ...’

Threadfin waved a dismissive hand. ‘You coming all the way in, or staying out there? Aren’t Darkens supposed to be heroic or something?’

‘Just the dumb ones,’ said Pole as he entered. He tried to appear confident and brave. Strutted a little too. ‘And the dead ones.’ Slung over his shoulders were two leather satchels. He wore a short sword on his hip, knives strapped to his leather clad legs, and a heavy brown cloak over boiled leather armour. He carried a second cloak for Threadfin.

Grudge entered next, though he carried three satchels. The man was sweating and wide-eyed. Another one who hated stepping into his reflection. ‘Someone mention, cake?’ he asked. ‘Thought I heard someone say something about cake.’

Following were three others. Vilt with a wide grin, then Nevet and Tope.

‘Where we off to?’ asked Pole.

‘If I don’t tell you,’ Threadfin answered with a grin, ‘you won’t know if we get lost, will you?’

‘Don’t play games with me,’ warned the Darken, pointing a finger at him. ‘You know I don’t like all this magery stuff.’

‘Shouldn’t have become an undead mage’s Darken then, should ya?’ said Nevet slapping Pole on the shoulder. ‘Career choices, eh?’

‘Oh, shut up, Nev.’

‘Lost?’ Grudge’s eyes widened further. ‘What does he mean by, lost? I never get lost. My Ma always taught me to watch where I was going. “One foot in front o’ the other, and don’t step on your dead Da”, she said, and I never did. She did, but there weren’t no cake then neither.’

‘She did what?’ asked Tope.

‘Stepped on my dead Da, several times. On his face. Jumpin’ up and down. She was so happy, and I’ve always watched where I’m going ever since.’

Pole groaned, as he visibly refrained from saying something.

‘Oh, I see,’ said Nevet, with a nudge for the scout. ‘You mean like last night when you got lost and ended up under Vilt’s blanket? Bet your Ma never said nothin’ about steppin’ on naked women. Funny how she didn’t kick you out. Knew I heard a lot of huffin’ and puffin’. Come to think of it, you fell into her cot several times the past week.’

‘Accident prone,’ noted Tope. ‘He fell out once. Thumped and rolled, naked hairy arse bouncing. Not a sight you wanna see first thing. Others were sharing the same room, you know.’

Vilt gave both corporals a dangerous glare, ruined by a sly smile. She took one of the satchels from Grudge.

‘Was drunk, was all,’ said the scout, while picking his nose. ‘Like my Da used get afore my Ma cut his throat. He never drank a drop after, mind you. As good a cure as any. Like cake,’ he added hopefully.

‘There’s no cake,’ said Threadfin, hands on bony hips, glaring at them.

‘Thought she stabbed him in the eye?’ said Tope.

The scout nodded. ‘Why, my Ma always liked making certain of things. She’s why I became a soldier.’

‘Wait,’ said Tope, looking aghast. ‘You signed up to be like your murderin’ Ma?’

Pole’s face had gone blank by this stage with a violent twitch over his right eye. Not a good sign when he got a twitch.

‘So, where are we going?’ asked a cheerful Tope. ‘I hear Lame’s got good ale.’ He was checking his weapons and armour as he spoke. ‘Ewsannec stuff said to peel your skin off, I heard. Life and death type o’ drink. Wouldn’t mind a flagon or two.’

‘Nah, you’d be best heading to Frayle,’ said Nevet, ‘if it’s good drink you’re after. Buggers get the good wines imported from Paldan afore everyone else. They send the rest of us their swill.’

‘Tiral,’ Threadfin snapped, before anyone else could offer an opinion. He willed his voice lower. ‘It’s Tiral, okay? Not, Frayle or Lame or the Grim knows where else you lot got in mind. Besides which, there’ll be no drinking, and no cake.’

Vilt gave him an odd stare. The others looked affronted. ‘Well, of course there won’t be drinking. We’re professionals.’

‘Why no cake?’ asked Tope.

‘Tiral?’ said Grudge, chewing on the name. ‘Why we going there? Nothin’ good in that shithole.’

‘Naked dancers?’ suggested Tope.

‘Good point,’ said Nevet. ‘Better than any wine, a naked wench whippin’ her ass and tits about.’

Tope barked a laugh. ‘We got Vilt for that, or well, Grudge does. We just get the preview.’

‘Yeah,’ Nevet griped, ‘of his butt though, not hers.’ He received a punch in the head from Vilt, and he staggered to the side.

‘You sure you got it working?’ asked Pole with a nod at the mirror. ‘We need to get moving and get this lot occupied, fast.’

Threadfin couldn’t help but smile. After all, his Darken had shared a room with them for days. ‘You do realise the mirror itself doesn’t do anything?’

‘It’s got a crack in it.’

Well, Threadfin reasoned, at least he’s quit all the grinning. ‘Didn’t I send for you and one other? Preferably, someone quiet, non-opinionated, doesn’t drink, eat cake, or like naked women. Those last few requirements were implied.’

‘Never heard of a soldier like that. Maybe you should take along a church paytor instead.’

‘One other, Pod. I asked for, one.’

‘You sure you’ll need this?’ Pole handed over the grey cloak. ‘You know with your, well, you know.’

‘Since when do you care what I wear?’ Threadfin put it on, and grabbing a few bronze mirrors, slipped them into its pockets. ‘There’s nothing wrong with a good cloak, Pod.’

‘Or a decent dalba,’ said the Darken, holding a crimson red garment, once worn by imperial family members when beyond the palace.

Threadfin groaned on sight of it. ‘Those traditions are done with. An imperial cloak is as far as I’ll go.’

‘Tiralians might be a bit touchy seeing you walking about. Hiding yourself in shadows won’t help. They don’t like magic much neither.’

‘I didn’t need it here. I won’t need it there.’

‘Tiralians got a few weird notions about the undead. Violent notions. It’s an extra precaution.’

‘The cloak’s got a hood, Pod.’

‘Not deep enough.’ The Darken stuffed the dalba into a satchel. ‘Besides, we may need to advertise your imperial presence without riling folks. You’ve no idea what to expect when we get there. Best be prepared for all eventualities.’

Threadfin sighed, deciding the argument wasn’t worth it. Stepping up to the mirror, he raised a palm to its surface. ‘Okay, you lot line up. Once I go through, no delays. There’s no knowing where you’ll end up otherwise. A second between each.’

It was after he stepped into his laughing reflection, he realised something had gone wrong.