As if natural disasters like plagues and ice ages haven’t happened at other times before and since. When I was seven I didn’t know enough about Earth’s history to realize this was an obviously ridiculous claim, but I know now. The familiar anger fills me.
“Just old-fashioned greed for more power. If it were true, they could have just keyed wands for Low Earthers anchored to High Earth power spots so we could still access enough magic to do real spells.” Evram wasn’t even willing to do that for me, and it made me think.
And then act.
Standing as I am in the middle of a power spot, I feel Nathaniel’s magic flare. I whirl to see him gazing at me so intently it takes my breath away.
He doesnothave that kind of power in this world as a human. No way.
“But you now have a wand,” he purrs, “and a spot of resonance with yourself.”
Well, at least if he’s not human that means he’s less likely to be working for High Earth, but it’s the angels who helped High Earth set up the magic-sucking spell in the first place.
But it’s the first time someone hasseenme in so long that I don’t have to work hard to manufacture a grin for him, as if I have no concerns at all that this person I don’t know and have no reason to trust is here with me at the most pivotal moment in my life and has realized what I’m up to.
“You missed one,” I say, holding his gaze. “I have a wand, I have magic resonance, and I have a hell of a lot of knowledge of magic theory.”
“Well, well.” Nathaniel nods slowly, and I suppress a shiver and grip Evram’s wind lightly, ready—I’m not sure if he means that to come out as menacing as it does. “This will be more interesting than I realized.”
It’s my turn to snort. “So glad you deign to approve. Will you stop talking and let me focus?”
“Oh, by all means.” He backs up into the trees and seems to dissolve into shadow, which would not be possible without magic. I hear branches nearby creak—he must have chosen a place in a tree to observe—but I still hear his voice as if it were next to me purr, “Let me see what you can do.”
The thrill of challenge spears through me again, just like with Evram.A puzzle for you, Sierra.I roll my eyes and resolutely turn my back.
“I was going to do that anyway.”
The ground is clear.
I close my eyes, picturing the spell I need to write in my mind.
Then I open my eyes, set Evram’s wand against the ground, and start drawing arcane symbols. I channel magic through the wand so that my scribing embeds the spell into the ground. It will last even if the wind picks up and washes away my tracks in the dirt.
This is the first step: I need to anchor Evram’s wand to the magic of this world and to me, so that when he inevitably cuts off his wand’s connection to the magic power spot it draws from in High Earth, I’ll still be able to work. It’s probably the first thing he did when he got back—he’ll want to have leftsomeaccess, so he can easily get his wand working again when he gets back, but to limit how much I can draw on.
Unfortunately, I don’t finish before a portal opens.
Shit. I knew the clock was ticking, but I really did think I’d have more time before Evram could mobilize a force to come after me.
But only two figures step through the portal, which is not the organized cohort I expected and explains the speed.
One is Evram, of course, but he doesn’t have a wand—he’s planning on taking back the one I have.
But unlike at Comic Con, he’s brought someone with him who I recognize.
Destien.
He’s older now, and filled out. He let himself age into his mid-thirties, and it looks good on him—rich brown hair with perfect curls, chiseled jaw over warm brown skin that sets off his perfectly tailored champagne mage tabard. In fairness, everything always looked good on him, even without the cosmetic magic he could easily afford given his lineage, so this isn’t a surprise. When he walks into a room, eyes follow him—not like moths to a flame, but more like he exudes his own gravitational force. He’s solid, and powerful, and when he moves—or hits—you fucking feel it.
Destien is a magus adept, the top level of practitioner before grand magus. He was born into a wealthy family with a long magical tradition that could support his way through all the magical training he could ever want, and he’s had all the opportunities I always craved.
But for all his advantages, Destien doesn’t have my brain, and while I lived in High Earth he never unseated me as the grand magus’ champion.
We’re not exactly friends, is what I’m getting at.
I don’t wait for Destien to posture at me, because unlike the grand magus, we’ve personally dueled each other enough times for Destien to know perfectly well that if he doesn’t get the drop on me, he’ll be playing defense from the get-go.
I dive out of the grove, casting a shield behind me. And for all that it’s transparent, it’s arealshield, not like the flimsy thing I put up to warn me about Nathaniel trying anything.
