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Authors: Cat Adams

BOOK: Magic's Design
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Blinding light and the shriek of a chorus of angels … or
devils
filled the room as egg after egg began to explode and release wild magic into the air. Tal covered Mila’s body with his own, dropping to the ground. Vegre’s containment spell was destroyed as the lights began to chase him and the others while they threw magic and curses and blasts of power to attack the bolts of energy.
The villains’ hideous screams joined the cacophony as wild magic assaulted the three crafters. It was like watching a death by a thousand cuts as each bit of magic took its measure, tearing at the men until they were screaming and crawling on the floor.
He could feel Mila’s heart beating frantically against his chest. He held her close, waiting for the death curse to claim and drain him, knowing that this embrace would be his last.
Pain, hot and intense, burned at his arm, as he watched the sleeve of the jacket he wore begin to char in the image of the meander pattern she had drawn on his arm.
The pain faded, the screams died. It was done. What used to be three men was now a pile of expensive clothing covered with black goo that smelled much like rotten eggs.
And Talos was still alive.
A new voice came from above them. “Bravo! Talos, I didn’t think you had it in you.” Sela’s voice came from the … thing that hovered above the open door, filled with dozens of Children in red robes.
“Sela? My God, what happened to you?” Mila’s voice was horrified, and for good reason. Sela’s short mop of golden hair was now long and stringy black. She wore a tattered black dress that seemed to be more skin than cloth that flamed at the edges. Her nose was misshapen and covered with bumps and moles that made her features twist.
“You
happened to me, thrice-damned
bitch!
You cast something,
did
something at the house that made me look like this. But I’ll change it back again as soon as the plan is done.”
She pointed at what was left of the bodies. “But Vegre’s dead. There
is
no more plan.”
Sela shook her head with a disgusted expression. “I
told
him that stupid pysanky thing would never work. But it kept him busy and out of my way while I was working on the real plan.”
Sela
was the mastermind behind all this? No wonder they couldn’t connect the two pieces. They were entirely different plans. Mila spoke before Tal could. “So the squelk and the magma is
your
doing? Why would you want to blow up the hotel? What purpose will that serve?”
Sela looked at her as if she was insane. “What are you talking about? I don’t plan to
blow up
the hotel. I plan to use life energy to awaken the goddess in the magma.”
Mila let out a little laugh. “No …
really.
”
“You’re a naive fool, Mila. Do you think you’re the only Parask in the world?” She raised her flame-ridden sleeve to show the meander road symbol on her arm. “I’ve just used illusion to cover it all these years. Didn’t want anyone to discover me while in the academy. Since I already had two marks, nobody looked for a third. But there really
is
a goddess in the ground and all it will take to awaken her is a big enough sacrifice.” She smiled as the Children filed into the room. “Why do you think I lured all the agents to Buckingham Palace? There’s a domed window, just like this one, buried inside the ceiling—hidden away for all these centuries, waiting for just the right moment. I’d
hoped
to use the additional souls in the hotel, but you ruined that, so I’ll have to settle for my faithful followers.” She waved her hand and the men and women filed in. There were more than the dozen Tal had expected. There could be close to a hundred of them—including his mother and the three boys who had joined in Vril. “But I want to make sure you have a front-row seat. Hold them!”
The combined force of magic that blasted them from the focus stones of the Children hit them both in the chest. He felt hands grabbing him … clutching and clawing, just before he blacked out.
 
I
t was hot. Hotter than she could remember ever being. Did she have a fever? Was she sick in bed? She couldn’t seem to focus. When her eyes opened, Mila realized they were in a cavern of coal bisected by a red … blinding light that wasn’t eased even by squinting. But then she heard Sela’s voice and it all came back to her. She was bound to a chair, back to back with Tal, less than a yard from a vicious slash in the ground that glowed red and hissed ominously. Alexy lay bound and gagged on the floor at their feet. He’d accomplished his crafting and stopped the magma, but had paid the price.
“Oh goodie, you’re awake. I was hoping you’d get to see this. It’s nearly midnight, and my Children have surrounded Buckingham Palace. They’re beginning the spell that will pull the souls from the people inside … souls that will be captured by the images in the glass and will send them here … to
me.
”
“You’re insane.” It was hard to talk. Her mouth was so achingly dry. She could barely open her lips.
“Not insane, Mila dear. Merely about to become a
goddess.
At exactly midnight on New Year’s, there will
truly
be a new beginning. I plan to offer the power my form, and my purpose and then I will control all that is—the water, the earth, the air, and the very fire that makes the planet exist. I will
be
the planet and the sun will do my bidding. A new world will be born from the ashes of the old.”
The Time of Cessation. She believed in it, too. There would be no talking sense to her if that was the case. She was beyond sanity. A flash of light caught her eye and a object appeared near Sela’s feet. She noticed it and threw it angrily into the vent. “And stay there.” She turned, pushing one of the pliant Children out of the way violently and muttered, “I am getting so
sick
of that thing. Why in the hell does it keep showing up?”
But Mila recognized
that thing,
and while it was impossible, unthinkable, it might just be real.
She whispered the words, her voice so cracked from the heat it was almost gone. “Fetch me water.”
Sela screamed and dropped to her knees. The iron dipper flew up out of the molten earth and smashed into her, welding to her hand. The scent of burned flesh and sound of screaming filled the air as she disappeared … like
magic.
The scream woke Tal. He looked around frantically and struggled to free himself. He was making a mmm-ing sound that made her turn her head as far as she could. Sela had taped his mouth, probably to prevent him casting spells. There was also something large and glowing around his neck. It looked like … the diamond necklace Sela had been wearing earlier. Did it carry a charm of some sort? She felt his voice in her mind for the first time in days.
Mila? I need you to speak for me—to cast a spell to free us. I believe I can use you as a focus of my will.
But then her toes started to tingle. “Oh God! I can’t black out now. I can’t finish the spell if an episode hits.” She slammed her head backward, hitting his skull with a crack. “
Tal,
no! Don’t try to connect to me. I have a plan and I don’t
dare
black out.”
He paused in his struggles to free himself, and she knew how hard it was for him to trust her enough to remain tied and helpless.
Sela appeared again, holding the now cool ladle. She was still screaming, and struggled mightily, but was forced by an unseen power to hold the metal lip gently, close enough that Mila could drink from the cool water. It was enough for her to talk again. Mila opened her mouth and the little tuning fork appeared and likewise forged itself to Sela’s other hand as if glued there. She couldn’t believe she was about to say it, but she knew she had to. Something had happened when Sela went back to the house. Some freak of magic had transformed Sela so that she now was the black lady. But if Mila didn’t give the orders fast enough, if the clock hit the last stroke of midnight the spell would dissolve and Sela would be free to finish her plan. “Second task—go and make the rocks hum far from where the roosters sing.”
Another struggle and the hag disappeared in a blink of light. Tal’s eyes were wide over the strip of tape that covered his mouth. Again he tried to reach her.
What have you done?
“She tripped the spell I cast to keep out evil. The only thing I can think is that the judge signed the order to make the house mine, and—”
Homestead magic. It amplified the spell.
Again her feet started to tingle and now her head was hurting. A loud noise began to sound, low and echoing though the narrow cave. She looked with vision that was flickering with tiny pinpoints of light to see that Sela had brought one of the grandfather clocks down. Both hands were nearly touching. The second bong sounded.
A wave of dizziness washed over her. She shook her head quickly to fight it off. “You can’t talk to me, Tal. I’m about … about to pass out and you … don’t know the rest of the spell.”
He let out a harsh, frustrated snort of air through his nose but nodded, eyes flashing with both worry and anger. She doubted it was directed at her but instead at the third chime of the clock. He knew what it meant as well.
Sela appeared once more and the walking stick appeared to join the tuning fork as part of her right arm. Mila stared in horrified fascination while the clock chimed. She could actually feel time slowing, moving toward that delicate moment, when time ceased. Finally Sela was as bent as a hunchback, leaning on the cane as though her life depended on it. As the tenth chime sounded, Mila raised her voice and screamed the words. Sela tried to stop her, tried to beat at her with the stick and the ladle but it hit a solid mass of air in front of Mila’s face. As the eleventh chime sounded, icy wind began to whip their hair and Sela’s eyes were suddenly frightened. The final strike of the clock came as the words hit air. “Third task—lean on that cane and travel to where the icy winds dance. Be gone and never return again.”
A crack of light and sound slammed into their bodies, dumping the chairs over, frightfully close to the lava. The Children were still frozen in time, waiting for the return of their mistress … their goddess—who would never return. Sulphur smoke made her cough until she couldn’t catch her breath. Tal was moving his head back and forth across the sharp rocks and she finally realized why after he scraped the tape away and she finally heard his voice. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
“Good idea,” she said, trying to keep the sarcasm from her voice while she struggled with the tight ropes and tried to blow away the splatters of molten rock that were making her hair sizzle and smoke. “Any idea
how?
”
“One.” His voice sounded uncertain and worried. “But I don’t think you’ll like it.”
She shrugged her shoulders and kicked to spin away from another splatter. “Try me. I’m becoming more adventurous by the minute.”
“Can you reach this amulet with your teeth?” He nudged the glowing stone of the necklace her way. Obviously he needed it off him to do magic, so she threw herself into the task. It took four tries but finally she got her teeth around the chain and yanked while he twisted his head. The glowing stone went flying, to land in the lava with a loud pop. She heard his voice call out with authority.
“Areszt!”
At first she didn’t notice anything but then she heard voices. Unfortunately her head wouldn’t turn that far and while the noise filled her with panic, Tal was quite calm. “We could use some help here, folks.”
Suddenly, there was yelling and footsteps and she felt herself being lifted. She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, trying to think happy thoughts. It was only when she felt the ropes loosen that she opened her eyes.
Tal was holding his mother tightly against him and she was crying. The air began to cool and she saw Guilders of all descriptions, frantically casting spells to return the lava to where it belonged. “I couldn’t help myself. She was making us
do
things and we couldn’t stop.”
He stroked her hair gently as the red light dimmed to nothing but a tiny glow. “I know, Mom. I knew that wasn’t really you.” He saw Mila standing there, looking uncomfortable and held open one arm with a smile. She went to him, snuggled in against him and felt her heart finally slow and another arm, a
woman’s
arm, reach around her to hold her close.
And then the world went white.
 
M
ila woke and sat up from where she was lying in a field of flowers, wearing a snow-white dress that reached her knees. She heard a voice and seemed to recognize it, but yet she’d never heard it before. It was either a contralto or tenor, not quite male or female, but part of both. “It must be now. There is no more time.”
Her brow furrowed as she stood and looked up, trying to find the source of the voice. “Who are you? Where am I?”
“You know where you are. You must hurry. Everything is prepared.” She blinked again and looked around.
I know where I am?
And then she did. She recognized that path, and the little bridge that went over the koi stream. “This is Viktor’s. Viktor? Baba? Are you here?”
“There is no time, conjurer.” Finally the voice had direction. She stood and walked toward the pond. The voice came from just beyond, in the tidy little bonsai garden near the pond. A quail rose from a nest, revealing four perfect white eggs. “Take them. Help me.”
Take them? Take the eggs? She found herself carefully collecting the tiny orbs and walking toward the garden. As she entered, she stopped and could only stare. Her favorite little tree, the tree that had supported Tal as he plucked her from Vegre’s clutches, was withered and brown. “Hurry, conjurer.”
You’ll recognize it when you see it.
Hadn’t Viktor said that? Is that why she’d always been so drawn to this little tree—to the Tree of Life?
A kistka and dyes were already spread out on a blanket near the pond. She recognized the slender black length of wood and metal. “Baba,” she whispered.
“Mila?” Tal walked into the garden, also dressed in white, as though the color had been bled from him … from them both. “What’s happening? How did we get here?”
“The Tree brought us,” she replied with a smile. “The spirit of the Tree. It needs to be healed. It needs
me.
”
Whether he understood or not, she finally did. The other eggs would be too big for these tiny branches. No wonder there were so many quail that lived in the garden. She couldn’t believe that Viktor could live here so long, listen to the Tree growing weaker and not step in. But he had admitted his failing and moved on. Whether Baba could or couldn’t make the eggs, she didn’t know, either. Mila didn’t blame them. They had their burdens, just like all people. But now was her time and she
would
do it.
Tal sat down beside her and stared in wonder as she quickly re-created the eggs she’d done in Vril. The kistka had the narrowest point she’d ever worked with, but it was perfect for working on the tiny, delicate shell.
She didn’t remember how long she worked, just that Tal kept gently rubbing her shoulders, keeping the tension down. She would have expected that it would make the lines jiggle, but instead they came out sure and straight, no matter how hard he rubbed. Yellow, red, blue, black. Line after line, egg after egg.
Finally they were done and she held the painted eggs up for Tal’s inspection. “They’re beautiful. But there are only four. Didn’t you say there had to be
five?
Where’s the egg for the conjurer guild? Did you ever learn what it looks like?”
He hadn’t figured it out yet and she hated to tell him. But she knew. She’d tried so hard not to think about it while she was crafting, but now there was no escaping the reality.
“The fifth egg is
me,
Tal. The life of the Tree
comes
from the life of the artist. In a way, you were right. I
was
the Tree spirit in your head … the
future
Tree spirit. Not yet born.”
Shock filled his face, and then horror. Finally his eyes filled with tears. “No! No, there has to be another way.”
She touched his face gently and then motioned to the old tree. “A way that won’t doom your people? The Tree is dying. You can see it with your own eyes. The slave tree in Vril, and Shambala will soon fail and even if I replaced every egg in every tree, they won’t survive without this one. You know this has to happen. You know it in your heart.”
He grabbed her and held her tight against him and she felt the first of his tears on her cheek. She didn’t want to go, either, but there was no other way.
“It is time, conjurer.” The voice sounded tired and impatient, as though nothing mattered anymore except passing on to the next place.
Mila nodded and pulled away from him. He let her, except for the hand he refused to let go of. His was shaking and she couldn’t blame him. She was scared, too. But it wouldn’t be death. Not really, and she’d always be in contact with him. It was he who had been the key all along. He really could talk to the spirit. It had guided him his whole life and she vowed that would continue for as long as he lived.
She picked up the first tiny egg—representing the air guild. She felt her fingers slide easily beneath the bark. The egg settled into the wood and she felt a spark, awareness awaken something in her mind. With the second egg came the sensation of the other Trees, the slaves that kept their people strong—
their
people, hers, too, even though they were shunned. The water egg was next and she could feel all the streams and the oceans of the world like a pulse against her throat. Water was everywhere, in places where neither Agathians nor humans knew existed. Mankind could survive infinitely if only they knew.
The mage egg was last. Tal gripped her hand furiously, refusing to loosen it even when she tried to pull away. But he would eventually have to give up, for the Tree would have its way. She settled the last egg into place and felt a warmth fill her. The world shifted and air became light became motion.
She was welcomed joyously and all the Trees of the world hummed and reached for her. She realized this was the mother of
all
trees, those topside and below. Every pine and oak knew her, recognized her as their mother.
Blessed Tree, hear me!
She felt fire burn in what used to be her feet.
Do not take her from me. You live again … you are healed. You do not need her
. A pause and then a choking sound.
But … I do.
“I know you.” Mila heard another voice. It echoed through her mind. It was the peal of laughter, the cracking of lightning on a hot summer day, the blowing of winter snow. “I know you, mage.”
“Yes.” She recognized Tal’s voice now, speaking in the air instead of her head. She realized she could think a little more clearly as herself now. “You know me, spirit. I have always trusted you, believed in your goodness and light. Don’t do this. Don’t take Mila from me now that I’ve just found her. She deserves to laugh and love and bear children of her own before she takes on the cares of the world.”
There was a long pause. It was the slender ribbon of time between night falling and dawn breaking. “But I am tired.”
Now his voice was angry. “And just because of your weariness you would doom another to your fate? Weren’t you once human? Once Parask to breathe air and heal bodies? There is still sickness among us, Blessed Tree. The red shadow has found us again. Please … do not take one of the last healers from us in our time of need. All the magic in the world will not replace the lives of my people.”
Mila felt another pause and then felt roots searching, seeking …
confirmation.
A fever here, a glowing mark there—dark red and throbbing. Magic disrupted, the future only chaos without quick action. Vegre had indeed spread the illness, looking to become the one and only magicwielder in a world of lowly humans, who would have eventually worshiped him as a god but for their efforts.
She felt again, searched for another of their kind. Another Parask. She found her mother, mortified and shamed that she hadn’t herself taken on the mantle of the Tree, when she knew that the Tree was sick. Then Mila sensed Baba, her hand cool and frail in Clara’s larger one, wounded in body and spirit. But she could be healed … was being healed. There were healers all around her. Jason and Dareen sat at her bedside, looking worried, and a tall dark-skinned man with a wreath of gold on his head was creating a gate to bring in even more healers. She knew it, could sense the intent. Even Sarah was there, dressed in party finery that said she had come from an event somewhere. Viktor was there—dear Viktor, her once and future Dido, grandfather. She could feel it in their hearts as she swept through the air past them. Baba’s eyes moved up under closed lids as she went by, as though she could see or sense Mila’s presence. Perhaps she could, because a tear glistened in the light as it trailed down her cheek. She abruptly felt her mother’s resolve to return to their people, to restore Sarah’s memories, and teach her to craft properly and restore the Parask guild.
She would miss Baba, miss her mother and family. Most of all, though, she’d miss Tal. How had he become so important so quickly? Why did it stab her in the chest to think she’d never again know his touch, or hear his laugh? Had the Tree ever lived, ever known pleasure or family or … love?
“Can’t you remember a time when you walked among us? Is it because nobody speaks your name anymore that you have forsaken us? Did we forsake you so that you punish us? Should we have worshiped you by name?” Tal’s voice in her ears sounded sad now, and Mila couldn’t help but remember the ruined fruit and scattered flowers. She remembered her own sadness, even though she didn’t understand what the offerings meant at that time.
A stab. Pain. Sharp and intense, so powerful that she couldn’t draw in enough air. And the voice was there again, stronger now. More confident.
I remember … remember … my people.
A name flowed through Mila’s mind—
Eva. I was Eva.
Eva. It was a good name in the Ukrainian language. It meant
the mother of all the living,
and Mila could see an image now, of a young blond woman not that different from her, but in brightly colored garb with embroidery on the apron, her hair in coiled braids under a pretty kerchief. Her family had died from
Tin Czerwona,
and there was nobody left to heal. The past opened to Mila as she watched and she could see Eva stumble into a cave, exhausted from healing, seeking a place to simply lie down and die. The cold wrapped around her, as though there was no warmth left in the world. She felt her pulse slow, weaken until the light became darkness.
Then she awoke to see a beautiful tree. She thought herself dead, so when the tree spoke to her, Eva answered. The Tree was just a tree in that bygone era, but it bloomed with magic that could heal her people. Eva shared her love of her people with the Tree, and it responded by offering to help.
She became one with the Tree, with a strength of purpose that would save all their kind. The purpose of
love
and health.
Tal saw the story along with Mila and she could feel him squeeze her tight. “If you remember love of your people, then don’t do this. As you have healed us, we can heal you. We can renew your purpose without taking an unwilling life.”
Eva’s voice hesitated, as though confused. It echoed through the air uncertainly. “She is not unwilling.”
Mila responded in her mind, because she couldn’t seem to feel her body.
I am willing if there is no other choice. I love our people … all people, and will serve if I must. But I love Tal more than life. Have you never had that sort of love in your life? The love that makes you laugh with all the joy of the world?
Another image flashed, of a young man with wild dark hair and an easy laugh. And then the same man, among the dead … taken before she could save him. “I remember …
love
. But I am tired. So very tired. I must think.”
Another stab of pain ripped through her mind, so immediate and encompassing that it wiped out everything, including the sensation of Tal’s hand on hers. No, she didn’t want this. Not like this. Fear and sorrow filled her and she couldn’t help but cry, even if no tears would ever roll down her cheeks again.
Falling, falling, down into the darkness, where it was cold and lifeless and empty. But then a spark of warmth and she raced toward it, taking Eva along in her wake. Now there were voices and laughter, surrounding the Tree in Vril. And then Shambala. And Rohm, and Thule. Bright sunlight and flowers blooming. Mila whispered a word and they heard. They all began calling her name, chanting it while touching the rough bark of the Trees.
Not Mila. But
Eva.
Mila could feel each person the same way she was attached to Tal. It was dizzying, mesmerizing, and so powerful that it made her head feel like it was going to explode. But within the sensation was emotion, and it was stronger than anything else. Love and anger and pain. It grew, faster and stronger, the voices joining into a roar of noise and light and emotion that overwhelmed her. Until—
“Yes.” She both heard and spoke the word. “There is much to do, Mila—”
“Mila!”
“Mila, wake up.” She blinked. Yes, blinked with eyes that opened. Tal was kneeling above her, his smile radiant. He pulled on her arm to lift her from where she was lying and wrapped warm arms around her. “You’re so cold. I thought I lost you.”

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