“That’s enough for today,” he said.
“I can keep going,” Alex tried to say, but Aamir shook his head.
“There’s valor in training,” he said. “There is none in burning yourself out and groveling in the mud. We’ll try again tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it.”
Alex, though reluctant, admitted he saw his point.
Aamir set about cleaning the grime from their clothes and tending to the icy burns on Alex’s skin.
“Anti-magic seems far less useful than I would have expected,” Aamir said absentmindedly. “You’re still getting pretty hurt.”
“I’m not getting pretty dead, though.”
Aamir gave Alex a wry look, one eyebrow raised.
“I suppose.”
Chapter 30
After an hour of fighting in the cellar, Professor Derhin’s lesson that afternoon seemed unspeakably dull. Alex watched as the man droned on about Shanna’s Twofold Focusing, all the while playing out the fights over and over in his head, analyzing every movement. He wondered how he was supposed to beat someone who could summon fire out of thin air and direct it with their hands. If only there were anti-magical lessons.
Alex moved through the motions of twofold focusing, feeling the warm embrace of Natalie’s magic fluttering around him.
There had to be a way to overcome Aamir’s advantages. After all, Spellbreakers were notorious for being wizard-killers; it simply didn’t make sense that he would barely be able to fight a student who wasn’t even fully trained. Perhaps his blood was simply weak, diluted from years of disuse. Or perhaps—
“Webber.”
He looked up to see Derhin watching him.
“Sir?”
“Your aura.”
Alex looked down, and saw that the magic around him had vanished. He felt the telltale chill on his skin, and almost heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that there wasn’t any visible frost on him. He looked back at Natalie, who was giving him a strange look.
“Sorry,” Alex said. “Lost in thought.”
On cue, Natalie’s magic folded around him again, and Derhin nodded in approval.
“Just remember,” he said. “It won’t do to lose focus. You need to learn to control your energy, not let it wander.”
“Alex,” Natalie said later that day, “please try not to eat my magic when I try to help you. That is not productive.” She sounded annoyed.
They were sitting in the library, looking out the window from their concealed nook. Red slashes of sunset were making silhouettes of the ivy that coiled around the metal spikes atop the wall, creating strange, waving patterns against the light.
“I know, I’m sorry,” said Alex a little guiltily. “I don’t even know how I did it. Normally my body only nullifies things that are hurting me.”
Natalie let out a sigh. “Maybe it is a reaction to letting Aamir beat you up all morning. You shouldn’t push yourself so hard.”
She was probably right, Alex thought, but what other option did they have? Either he pushed himself a little, or Aamir got killed in battle and Alex got killed for being a Spellbreaker. He couldn’t possibly hide that forever, not in a place filled with wizards. Just now, in class, he felt he had come close to revealing himself. Not wanting to upset her, Alex changed the subject.
“Don’t you ever wonder where they went?”
Natalie had already turned back to her book. She looked up from where she had scribbled something on the page of translations that always sat out next to her, and lifted her eyebrows inquisitively.
“Who?”
“The myths.”
“The…oh, one moment.”
Natalie looked interested, but held up a finger. She set down Nobilitum Mortem, finishing what she had been writing before interlacing her fingers and giving Alex a look to continue.
“It’s something I’ve been wondering since I came here,” Alex said. “Magic is in so many of our myths that, knowing it to be real, I find I must start believing in some of them. When Finder was talking in the Head’s office, he mentioned dragons. And if they were real…” He trailed off, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “I just wonder where they went.”
A strange look crossed Natalie’s face, and she turned to look once more at where the setting sun had faded to a diffuse orange, nestling among the hills of olive trees that made up today’s horizon.
“Once, I watched a house fire,” she said. “I thought it would be cool, you know? Mama was always talking about her heroics, so one day I followed a fire truck.” She smiled sheepishly. “I know you aren’t supposed to, but I was curious.”
The sun grew pink, sending spears of light through the gaps in the hills, shining against its halo of low, silver clouds.
“It wasn’t what I expected,” Natalie said, her expression soft. “It was so loud. The roar of the fire was like a beast screaming in my ear. So much rage and heat, and I just watched. Nobody could do anything. I saw inside a window, and there was an old movie poster in the room, and I watched it curl and burn and vanish. I wondered how many memories I was watching just…” She made a gesture. “Poof. Disappear.”
Alex watched her for a long moment as she kept thinking.
“And?” he asked, after it seemed that she wouldn’t continue on her own.
Natalie sighed. “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess I mean, sometimes something happens. Something that nobody expected, and nobody could have stopped. And everything disappears. Life does not always make sense.”
Alex thought about all those blank pages in the history books. All the stories that didn’t quite end…all the strange absences of endings. He thought about them, and he thought of a house, burning.
The sun slipped below the horizon, and the hills vanished with it, replaced by a blank expanse of nothing.
Chapter 31
In training the next day, Alex was sore and stiff. Aamir, however, seemed every bit as energetic as he had the day before, and it only took a few moments for him to floor Alex again. He let out a wheeze as Aamir sighed.
“You might need a few more days to recover from last time,” Aamir said. “This won’t be good for either of us.”
Alex struggled upright, his limbs aching, his shoulder covered in icy crystals where the other boy had struck him.
“One more try,” he said.
“Alex…”
“What?” Alex said, trying to force the warble from his voice. “You scared?”
Aamir’s lips thinned. “You know I am,” he said quietly.
He took his position opposite Alex again, and the two boys locked eyes. Fires began to spark around Aamir as he focused his magic, little glimmers of heat popping from thin air all about him. He raised his hands, opening his mouth, and Alex braced himself for the cold.
There was a crack as a bolt of fire snapped against the ground between the two boys, and they both jumped in surprise. Natalie stood nonchalantly at the base of the ladder.
“Alex has already been beaten up,” she said to Aamir. “But I figured you and I could both benefit from sparring too.”
They both gawked at her. Her hair was done up in a bun, and she wore loose-fitting exercise clothes and a pleased grin. She planted her hands on her hips, although Alex knew that was probably also an effort to hide the shake in her arms.
Aamir scowled. “First Alex, who does not know his own limits,” he said. “Now Natalie, who is almost too sick to stand.”
Natalie waved a hand. “No, I am fine. I have been sick for weeks now. I am used to it.”
She coughed, and Aamir glared at the both of them.
“You two—”
Natalie, standing by the ladder, was already closer to Aamir than Alex had ever managed to get. She stepped forward, and a whip of fire uncoiled from her hand to slap at the ground in front of Aamir, sending sparks flying up into his eyes. He cursed, throwing a hand over his face and staggering back a step.
“Sorry!” she said quickly.
“It
is all right,” said Aamir a little breathlessly, looking her up and down. “Okay. We will all train together. But I would rather not spar with someone so ill.”
Natalie paused, then walked over to the ancient wine rack that still covered one wall, pulling a dusty bottle free and tossing it into the center of the room, where it landed in the dust with a dull clunk. Alex stepped away from it, slumping against the wall and wincing from his icy burns.
“Whoever destroys it wins,” Natalie said, pointing at the bottle. “Is this acceptable?”
Aamir rolled his eyes. “We both use fire. How are we supposed to know who hit it?”
Natalie opened her mouth, then paused, her brow creasing.
“Aamir,” Alex called from his spot against the wall, “you’re supposed to be training. Get creative!”
Aamir glared at Alex, then sighed. The fires around him flickered, then slowly shifted to a shade of deepest blue. Natalie hummed appreciatively.
“You must teach me that one,” she said.
“You must teach me that trick with the mouse.”
Natalie’s eyes brightened. “Did you like him? Alex says he was—”
Aamir acted without announcing himself, jabbing two fingers toward the bottle on the ground. Blue fire tore through the air, and for an instant Alex braced himself for the sound of shattering glass.
Swiftly, Natalie drew in her breath and extended one hand toward not the bottle, but Aamir’s fire. It shuddered, grew orange, and halted just short of bottle. Then, jerkily, it began flowing to Natalie, and pooled into a ball over her hand. She smiled at Aamir, whose eyes had gone wide.
“To hell with the rat,” Aamir said. “Teach me how you did that.”
Natalie gave him an innocent look, then tossed the ball of flames over her shoulder, where it burst upon the floor.
“Break the bottle,” she said, her tone teasing, “and I will consider it.”
The two quieted as they fell into the competition. While Natalie was able to move Aamir’s magic against his will, she lacked much force of her own, and her own magical attempts to break the bottle were quickly slapped aside by Aamir’s. Alex watched as the blue flames tore at the orange, a shining, shifting mass of color and heat.
It took Alex what he considered an embarrassingly long time to figure out what was happening. He watched as Aamir’s blue fire turned orange and spilled away from the bottle, and Professor Lintz’s words filled his mind.
Necromancy is wrong on two levels, he had said. The first is that it taps on a school of magic which is devoted to ripping the essence out of another person.
Alex watched as sweat glistened on Natalie’s brow and she shoved her hands through the air with rough motions, and Aamir’s magic abruptly became hers. He smiled.
With an irritated huff, Aamir changed tactic. He drew his arms wide, then slammed his palms together. A bolt of lightning erupted from thin air just over his left shoulder, tearing the bottle in half before anyone else could so much as blink. There was a spray of red as glass and ancient wine showered the air, and Natalie’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Tell me how you’re doing it,” Aamir said, breathing hard.
Natalie grinned through her sweat and fatigue.
“That was my win, no?” she said.
Aamir glared.
Over where he sat, Alex’s hand formed the same rough, claw-like position he had seen Natalie using. She was doing something other than using magic. She was reaching into someone else’s magic and manipulating it. He knew that he had no magical potential himself, but Alex wondered briefly if his Spellbreaker blood was capable of something similar. He thought back to the class earlier that day. He had accidentally used his powers to snuff out Natalie’s magic, even though it had offered no threat to him. He had acted not on instinct, but with purpose.
“I’d like another turn,” he said abruptly.
Aamir looked skeptically over at him from where he had been badgering Natalie.
“You do not look ready,” he said.
Alex shook himself off, trying to ease the tension from his sore limbs as he got to his feet and moved to the center of the room.
“I have something I want to try,” he said.
Aamir sighed, tilting his head toward Natalie. “Can you talk any sense into him?”
Natalie laughed. “Not usually. But I would let him try again.”
With a dark look, Aamir turned back toward Alex.
“You’re both crazy,” he said. “And I’m not responsible for what happens.”
“Of course,” Alex said, taking a wide stance.
Aamir moved, and by now Alex could read the attack fairly well. The way the young man’s hands moved, his fingertips flickering, meant fire was coming. The way his palm jutted out meant it would be a spear.
This time, however, Alex made no effort to dodge. He half closed his eyes, letting raw instinct take control as he stepped toward the attack, one hand sliding forward toward the other boy’s magic. He felt the cold as his hand entered the flames, but he shut his mind to that. He let his fingers play in the frigid currents of magic, feeling them out, until suddenly something new slipped into him.
Twisting at the center of the flames, it was quiet, calculating, full of knowledge and energy, and Alex knew instinctively that this was Aamir. His magic, his soul, his very being. Alex twisted his hand, and gently pressed the energy to one side, diverting it away from him.
It almost worked. For all his calm, Alex’s technique was sloppy; he watched in dismay as the center of the spear of flames shattered in a white explosion of icy dust while the front, like an arrow cut mid-flight, hooked and smashed into his chest. He found himself once again on the ground, gasping, covered in snow, his breath ripping at his throat.
Aamir walked up, thrusting out a hand.
“You all right?”
Alex seized Aamir’s hand, nodding, and Aamir pulled him upright.
“You done yet?” Aamir asked.
Alex shook his head.
“Only getting started.”
Chapter 32
As January dragged on and February drew ever closer, Alex found himself spending more and more time in the library researching the history of Spellbreakers. He stayed up late, sitting up amid the books under the soft light of a hundred paper lanterns, reading and hoping to find answers.
In book after book, however, he met with the same eerie discrepancy. Every time he drew toward what appeared to be the end of magical history, the books would simply stop. Chapters upon chapters of empty pages, the words all vanished as if they had never existed.
Alex let out a groan as a particularly promising-looking tome turned out to contain the same problem, and jammed the book back onto the shelf where he had found it. He wondered if the other students, or teachers for that matter, would be able to shed some light on the issue, but somehow, it seemed like a bad idea to ask. Standing, he made his way down the steps of the library-tower and back to the little table where Natalie was transcribing a line of Latin onto a piece of paper.
She looked up as he approached.
“Anything?”
Alex shook his head.
“Perhaps you should focus on figuring out anti-magic,” Natalie said. “It may help you win against Aamir.”
Alex sighed. While his Spellbreaker skills were improving, they were still nowhere near enough to fight a proper mage. Aamir still smacked him around with relative ease.
Natalie, on the other hand, still managed to put up a good fight against Aamir. Her technique, which she called ‘grabbing’, continued to be a thorn in Aamir’s side, and the boy persisted in demanding that she show him how it was done. Natalie, however, seemed delighted to put him off, insisting that he work for it.
“Why do you read so many histories?” Natalie asked, tilting her head. “What are you looking for?”
“Answers,” Alex muttered. “To any of this.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, “answers would be useful.” But she
didn’t seem to be fully listening, concentrating instead on her magic.
She made a couple quick motions of her hand, and magic flared about it. Then she turned green as a dull red throb ran through the golden fire, and she put her hand back down, panting slightly.
Alex watched with a frown. “I really wish you’d talk to someone about that.”
He’d been trying to get Natalie to speak with a teacher about her illness for about a week now, but she was strangely reluctant. Alex was sure at this point it was something magical, but Natalie insisted on pretending nothing was wrong.
“I am fine,” she said, wiping at her brow. “I just didn’t sleep enough last night.”
“You’re falling apart,” Alex replied, perhaps more sharply than he had intended.
Natalie glared at him. “Don’t tell me what I am feeling,” she snapped.
Alex held up his hands in surrender, but irritation churned his gut. He looked up toward the library-towers, wondering if there was anything about magical illnesses up there. He was sure there would be.
“I’ll be back,” he said, rising and departing again. Natalie only grunted at his retreating back.
There was indeed a section on magical maladies, nestled up by the ceiling. Alex found himself standing on a platform high above the rest of the library, scanning through a small collection of books with titles such as Rotstone and Surviving Glithering. He opened the latter out of curiosity, then shut it instantly upon seeing a diagram inside. He decided that if he ever contracted glithering, he would rather just die. It certainly wasn’t what Natalie was dealing with.
He glanced through a few more books, but nothing seemed to have what he was looking for. The things described in the volumes were all sicknesses of the flesh—none of them had anything to do with infecting a person’s magic. He sighed, replacing his most recent disappointment on the shelf.
“Alex?”
He turned to see a head of brown hair poking up the stairway that led to his platform, a pair of glasses shining in the lantern light. Ellabell stepped up, giving him a curious look. “What are you doing here?”