Renegade's Magic

I gritted my teeth and then let my anger go with a sigh. “It’s all right, Kesey. Ebrooks was right. You couldn’t have helped me.”

I reached for my sword. But as my hand came close to the hilt, I felt an odd tingling. It was an unpleasant warning, as if I’d just set my hand on a hive of bees and felt the buzzing of the warriors inside. I drew my hand back and wiped it roughly down the front of my shirt, puzzled.

“But you escaped, right? So me keeping quiet, it didn’t do you no harm, right? And I’m not going to try to stop you now. I’m not even going to tell anyone that you come this way.”

There was a note of fear in his voice that wrung my heart. I met his eyes. “I told you, Kesey. It’s all right. And no one will be asking you if I came this way, because I met Captain Thayer and his men as I was leaving town. And they killed me.”

He stared at me. “What? But you—”

I stepped forward quickly. He flinched from my touch, but I set my hand to his forehead as he cringed away. I put my heart in my words. I wanted to protect him, and this was the only way to do it. “You’re having a dream, Kesey. It’s just a dream. You’ll hear about my death next time you go to town. Captain Thayer caught me escaping and beat me to death with his own hands. His wife is avenged. There were a dozen witnesses. It’s over. Ebrooks was there. He might even tell you about it. He took my body and secretly buried it. He did the best by me he could. And you, you had a dream of me escaping. It comforted you. Because you knew that if you could have helped me, you would have. And you bear no guilt for my death. All of this was just a dream. You’re asleep and dreaming.”

As I’d been speaking, I’d gently pushed Kesey supine. His eyelids shut and his mouth sagged open. The deep breathing of sleep sighed from his lungs and in again. He slept. I heaved a sigh. He’d share the same false memories I’d left with the mob that had surrounded me. Even my best friend Spink would recall that I’d been beaten to death in the streets and he’d been powerless to stop it. Amzil, the only woman who’d ever looked past my fat and unlovely body to love me, would believe the same. They’d bear that tale home to my Cousin Epiny, and she would believe it. I hoped that they would not mourn me too sharply or for too long. I wondered briefly how they would break the news to my sister, and if my father would care when he heard it. Then I resolutely turned away from that life. It was gone, over, finished.

Once I’d been tall and strong and golden, a new noble’s soldier son, with a future full of promise. It had all seemed so clearly mapped for me. I’d attend the Academy, enter the cavalla as an officer, distinguish myself in the King’s service, marry the lovely Carsina, have a fulfilling career full of adventure and valor, and eventually retire to my brother’s estate to live out my declining years. If only I’d never been infected with the Speck magic, it would all have come true.

Kesey snorted and rolled over. I sighed. I’d best be gone. As soon as the news of my death spread, someone would ride out to tell him. I didn’t want to expend any more magic; I already felt the aching pangs of hunger that using magic brought on. As soon as I had the thought, my stomach growled furiously. I rummaged hastily through the food cupboard, but all the food looked unappetizing, dry and old. I longed for sweet berries warmed by the sun, earthy rich mushrooms, the spicy water plant leaves that Olikea had fed me the last time I’d seen her, and tender crisp roots. My mouth ran at the thought of such foods. Instead, I glumly took two rounds of hardtack from the shelf. I took a large bite and, still chewing the loathsome stuff, reached for my sword. It was time to be gone from here.

The sword burned me. It all but jumped from my hand when I let go of the hilt, as if magnetically repelled from me, and clattered to the floor. I choked on the mouthful of dry crumbs and sank to the floor, gasping and gripping the wrist of my offended hand. When I looked at my palm, it was as red as if I’d gripped a nettle. I shook my hand and wiped it against my trouser leg, trying to be free of the sensation. It didn’t pass. The truth came to me.

I had given myself to the magic. Cold iron was mine no longer.

I stood slowly, backing away from my fallen sword and a truth I was reluctant to face. My heart was hammering in my chest. I’d go weaponless into the forest. Iron and the technology that it made possible was mine no longer. I shook my head like a dog shaking off water. I wouldn’t think about it just now. I couldn’t quite grasp all it would mean, and at that moment I didn’t want to.

I gave a final glance around the cabin, realizing belatedly that I’d enjoyed living here, on my own, having things my own way. It was the only time in my life I’d had such freedom. I’d gone from my father’s house straight to the Academy, and then returned to his domain. Only here had I ever lived as my own master. When I left here, I’d begin a life not as a free man, but as a servant to a foreign magic that I neither understood nor wanted.