Subtle Magic

Sometime before the events of Fire Mage…

CHAPTER ONE 

Swatting at the nearby undergrowth, I mutter under my breath as I stomp along the almost invisible path, climbing up through the scraggly brush of the valley and onto the plains. 

The sun is beating down on the landscape. I’m sweaty and my skin is itchy over my scars; I have to forcibly resist the overwhelming urge to scratch at them. 

Damn Thornal and his infernal desire to gather spell ingredients. 

The village isn’t far now, but I’ve already been walking most of the day, so it feels like it’s taken forever. 

“I’m too old to go traipsing over the countryside, Jena. That is your chore.” 

I snort, recalling Thornal’s mocking half smile as he said the words. 

The only time Thornal uses his age as an excuse is when he doesn’t want to do something. He’s perfectly capable of visiting the Mage Antonus. 

He just chooses to make me do it in his stead. 

I stumble on a loose piece of rock, my leg buckling under me and only just catch myself. Yet again I curse Thornal’s pig headedness. 

Antonus rules his small village like a benevolent dictator; they love him, but they fear him as well. He takes care of them all and ensures their safety against wandering thieves and highway robbers. 

In return, they keep his house, look after his garden, cook his meals. They make sure he is comfortable in every possible sense. 

I let out a huff of breath. 

He’s a typical mage. Patronising, overbearing, self centered. But he’s usually kind to me—despite the hard bargains he likes to drive on herbs and spices—and tells me stories from his younger years over the meal we often share before I begin the trudge home again. 

He’s not as good as my master. No where near it. But then no one is. 

I see the smoke of a cottage fire in the distance before I see the houses, and it keeps me focused on my journey’s end. I don’t know why I’m so tired today. Maybe the heat of the sun, or perhaps because I was out hunting all day yesterday. 

I have one of the rabbits I caught in my satchel for Antonus, a gift from Thornal along with the fresh vegetables from his garden. 

They’re also swapping spell ingredients today, each looking to expand their stores with help from the other. I have several small vials as well as the usual leather pouches, each containing precious powders that will soon adorn the shelves of Antonus’s potion room. 

The smell of stew wafts into my nose from somewhere up ahead, and my stomach rumbles. Mouth watering, I pick up my pace. 

Soon the houses are in view. Small cottages tucked into the edges of the rocks, trees providing shelter from the heat of the sun. I wave to a couple of people, and they wave back. But their faces are grim, and their stances tense. 

Something is wrong. 

I don’t stop, knowing that if there are any problems, Antonus will know. He’s the centre of this little village. Nothing gets past him.

His home is the largest and on the far side. 

As I approach his house, my footsteps slow. A crowd is gathered in front of his large stone and wood cottage. 

The the crowd seems uncertain; frightened and angry on the surface, something sinister underneath. 

Grinding to a halt, I try to assess what’s going on, but the mood is unusual; grim, while also completely unstable. 

Something bad is happening, that’s the only thing I’m still sure of. 

Moving carefully to one side of the gathered crowd, I watch from the sidelines for a few moments. Two women in front of me are talking quietly, and I strain to hear what they’re saying. 

“. . . he says she was snooping . . .” 

“. . . Old Martha should have warned her proper . . .” 

“. . . her own fault, she should know the rules . . .” 

“. . . no mercy for the girl . . .” 

I step back away from the women and move around to the side of the house. That something important is happening is clear, but I’m not sure it’s something I want to—or should—be involved in. Magic tingles along my skin, itching to get out, to find a way to help whoever is in trouble. 

But in a place like this, against a mage like Antonus, I’m less than powerless. Letting my magic free will give Antonus reason to kill me faster than I swat at the biting bugs on my arms. 

I have to take extra care not to get myself in trouble. 

Walking cautiously around to the back entrance to his house, I step up to the back door, and another tingle of magic warns me that all is not well inside. 

Antonus has added extra protections to his home. 

I try not to show that I’m aware of them and knock on the door. The sting of magic on my knuckles makes me wince. 

“Go away! The judgement will be held tomorrow.” 

I hestitate, tempted to just leave and not come back. But I have my mission to fulfil, and I’m not a coward. “Master Antonus. It’s me, Jena. I have Master Thornal’s herbs for you.” 

There’s silence on the other side of the door for several long minutes. I fidget, clenching and unclenching my hands around the leather satchel draped across my shoulders. 

Then the door is yanked open, and the mage Antonus looms over me like some kind of avenging demon from the core of the Great Volcano. “You better come in. The villagers are upset.” He grabs my arm and practically pulls me into the house. I stumble after him. 

“What happened?” I ask, trying not to sound overly curious. 

“A young girl in my employ was trying to do mage spells from one of my grimoires.” 

The gasp I give is involuntary, but effective. 

“Yes, yes. Precisely. Now I must follow the old laws and put her to death. The villagers are disturbed, but they understand the old laws as well as I do.” He nods his head, making the white hairs on his beard swish around. 

“Where . . . Where is she?” I ask, trying not to seem too interested. 

“I have her locked in my back room. I have said to the villagers that the execution will take place on the morrow.” He glances out the window at the gathering crowd. “I don’t know why they’re already waiting.” 

He rubs one shaking hand down his beard. He’s frightened by the collective power of the crowd outside his home. I see that immediately. 

There’s magic in a group like that, if they but knew it. 

The mage Antonus knows it very well, but he’s safe, unless there’s someone who can harness that power and use it against him. 

“I-I have your herbs,” I say quietly. I can’t get involved. There’s more at stake here than some girl who was stupid enough to get caught trying something she shouldn’t. 

If I’m found helping her, trouble could go all the way back to Thornal. I would never let that happen. 

“Thank you, Jena.” Antonus heaves a sigh. “You’re a smart girl. You’d never do anything such as this, now would you?” 

I shake my head quickly and avert my eyes, letting my dark hair fall across my face. 

The burn scars on my face come to my rescue in situations like this. They keep my face still, when perhaps I might otherwise give something away in my expression. 

“Thornal is a wise mage. He’d never allow this kind of thing to sully his home,” Antonus says miserably. 

It’s then that I realise he’s not concerned about having to execute a young girl, possibly against the wishes of the people in his village. He’s annoyed at the effort he’s being put to, that he’s losing a servant, and being pestered by the crowd.

CHAPTER TWO 

I clench my hands into a fist and try to stay calm. It’s this kind of thing that always gets me in trouble; a stupid old man who doesn’t value people or their lives as he should. 

I clear my throat unsteadily. “Where shall I put the herbs, Master Antonus? You’ll need to check them to make sure they’re the ones you asked for.” I know exactly what he asked for, and I was the one who packed them carefully into the satchel this morning. But I’m not going to let him know that, not in a thousand years. 

“Yes, yes. Bring them over here, girl.” He gestures to me impatiently, like I’ve been dawdling. 

I move quickly over to where he’s standing at the kitchen table and firstly pull out the rabbit and vegetables from my garden. 

“A present, from my master,” I say demurely. 

“Please give him my best regards,” says Antonus politely, removing the gifts from the table to the nearby cooking bench. He’s eyeing up the bundles that are still in my satchel, his fingers tapping impatiently on the table. 

So much for buttering him up. 

Carefully pulling out the various vials and bags of herbs, I lie each one on the table neatly in front of him. 

“Do you know what these herbs are for, girl?” 

I hesitate. “I know some of them from my cooking, Master Antonus.” 

He nods. “Yes, some of them are for cooking. But others are powerful herbs for mage spells. Does Thornal not tell you about them when you’re drying the herbs?” 

I shake my head. “Master Thornal does not let me work with the herbs he’s preparing for magic,” I say untruthfully. “He doesn’t like me to touch what will be used for a mage spell. Says I might decrease the magic.” 

Antonus makes a harumphing noise. “Never thought of that. Should have been more careful myself.” 

I nod demurely. Thornal would be horrified to learn of his supposed proclivities for doing everything himself. Especially since I’ve been in charge of his garden and drying, stocking, and distributing the herbs for the last two and a half years. 

But I’m not afraid of a little dissembling if the need arises. 

Antonus looks over the herbs, picking up some and examining them closely. “This one appears to be going off,” he says, holding up a packet of black-edged mushrooms. The brown sections that he’s pointing to are the normal markings of the mushroom when it’s in full bloom. But I hold my tongue. I don’t know if he’s testing me or just a complete fool. Either way, he’s dangerous. 

“I don’t believe I will take these today,” he says, putting them back down. “I'll throw them out for you so you don’t have the load to take home with you.” He puts them to one side as if he’s going to throw them out. 

I clear my throat again, hesitant to contradict him. He’s a cunning old bastard. But my sense of pride in my work prompts me to say, “No thank you, Master Antonus. Master Thornal always has a use for something, even if, as you say, it’s gone off. If you don’t want the mushrooms, he won’t thank me for leaving them in your care.” 

He narrows his eyes at me for a second as if he suspects I’m not quite who I say I am. I hold my breath, wondering if this is the moment where I get found out. But all I’m really doing is calling his bluff and not letting him cheat my master. The mushrooms are a difficult item to grow and cultivate. 

“Ah, yes, well. I’m sure you’re right.” He picks up the mushrooms again and looks at them closely. “Perhaps they’re not as far gone as I had at first suspected,” he says. 

I let out my breath. The crowd out front has me feeling more fretful than usual. I need to calm down or I really will be caught. 

He looks over the rest of the packages with a cursory eye and then gestures that I should follow him into the back room. Knowing how he works from previous visits, I put everything back in the satchel and follow him into his spell room. 

It’s not until I’ve laid the satchel on the large wooden table and opened the flap that I notice the young woman sitting in the corner of the room, held in place by an array of glowing lines—a magical prison. 

I can’t help myself. I stare at his prisoner. Long brown hair hangs around her face, which is puffy from crying, and her arms and face are covered in dirt. 

Antonus lifts his gaze and catches me staring. “That’s right, Jena. It’s good to have a reminder of the old laws. We cannot survive without them.” 

CHAPTER THREE 

Antonus moves to the shelves on one side of the room. 

They’re covered in jars, vials and leather bags, filled with various herbs and powders made by Antonus. He gestures at me with one impatient hand. “Come now, where is the list of ingredients from Thornal?” 

I pull out Thornal’s list, written by me in a fair approximation of his handwriting. Antonus might be difficult sometimes, but he’s exceptional when it comes to the propagation of certain herbs and spices. 

Antonus snatches it from my fingers and walks to his shelves. This is the part that’s always tricky with the mage. He likes to drive a hard bargain. And nothing pleases him more than to send the wrong thing ‘accidentally’ back to Thornal. It’s a fine line. I’ve taken to putting red herrings on the list, just to give him something to get wrong that I’m not concerned about. 

The girl in the corner starts sobbing quietly, her head slumping to one side. She has been gagged using an old cloth from the kitchen, and there’s a clear red handprint across her cheek. 

I try to place her, but I honestly can’t remember if I’ve ever met her before. I’m sure I’ve never seen her at Antonus’s house, but that means nothing. I’m never here regularly and generally at unseasonable times of day. 

“Come now, let us get this done. I’m sure you have a long walk home again.” 

I jerk, brought back to my responsibilities. “Yes, Master Antonus.” 

He hands me the first item on the list. Ground root from the Lomas tree. Good. The next three items are all exactly as they should be. 

Then he tries to give me some dried Hobber leaves in place of the dried Melcham plant that I actually want. Even at a time like this, he just can’t help himself. 

“Sorry, Master Antonus, we have no more need for these leaves,” I say, holding the packet back out to him. “I have a plant of them next to the kitchen door at my master’s house now.” 

Antonus glares at me and looks about to refute my statement.  

“I-I use them in my r-rabbit stew. My secret ingredient,” I say, trying to sound innocent and stupid. My hands are shaking. It would be just like Antonus to decide I have too much knowledge as well. 

It’s not a lie. I do use the Hobber plant in our rabbit stew. It helps my master with his stomach. 

He grunts and takes the package back. He replaces it with the correct plant, and I let out a breath. The next time he tries to con me, I let him, and his mood noticeably improves. I never knew an old man so tricky. 

When my bag has been unloaded of his herbs and is full of the herbs and spices that I need, I close the satchel and do up the belt. It’s heavier than it was, and I’ll need to get going pretty quickly if I’m to get home. I glance at the young girl in the magical prison, who I’ve been studiously ignoring. She looks at me imploringly, like I can do something to save her. 

I shake my head once. There’s nothing I can do. I have my own life, and Thornal’s life, to protect. I glance at Antonus, but he’s too busy inspecting his new acquisitions. 

“I will leave you now, Master Antonus. Good luck with your endeavors.” 

He nods absently. “Once the girl is executed, things will go back to normal around here.” He gestures with his head to the gathering crowd outside. “They understand the need for the old laws.” 

“I’m sure they do,” I murmur. 

At his words, the young girl starts whimpering, her bright blue eyes again filling with tears. She’s shaking, and even as I watch, she slumps a little. A spark of magic hits her body painfully as she touches one of the magical lines around her, and she moans in pain. 

“It’s your own fault, girl,” snaps Antonus. “You shouldn’t have been snooping. Now I’m to be put to the trouble of calming the people once you’re dead.” 

My fingers clutch convulsively around the strap of the satchel, and I back out of the room before I can do anything stupid. Antonus is a powerful mage. I don’t stand a chance against him. 

Happily, he’s distracted by his thoughts and allows me to lead him to the back door without comment. 

“Thank you, Master Antonus. My master will be very pleased, I am sure.” 

“Yes, yes. You better leave quickly, or you’ll get caught up in the excitement around here. Make sure you’re not seen. I can’t protect you once you’re out there.” 

I almost blurt out that I’m sure he could—if he wanted to. I hold my lips tightly together, and nod back at him, determined to leave the house without another word. 

Once I’m outside, I tread lightly down the stone steps, toward the path that leads around the side of his house. 

When I get to the corner, I peer around, trying to ascertain the mood of the people gathering outside the house. It’s turning ugly, and I wonder how long it will be before people start to throw things at his house. 

It’s a strange thing. People know and understand the old laws. And they know that if a mage finds that anyone is breaking them, especially one like this—a woman daring to try mage spells—they are quick to justice. 

And perhaps if Master Antonus had killed her then and there, this might not have had a chance to develop into something more. 

But he didn’t. 

And the people outside are starting to think about the injustice of it. She seemed like a nice girl. She’s probably well-liked in the village. Getting to look after the mage is likely a job with a large amount of responsibility. Not just anyone would be able to do it. 

Then it hits me. She must be the daughter of someone high up in the village. A well-respected family, possibly loved by many. 

That explains his hesitation in killing her. He needed time to think. But it can never be another way for them. At least not in front of witnesses. If a mage is seen to give leniency, the Mage Council would soon find out about it and come down on them like an out-of-control avalanche. 

I’m still peering around the side of the house when I see her. 

An older woman, standing tall and proud at the front of the crowd. She’s very striking, her long dark hair pulled back from her face, and her sparkling blue eyes filled with tears. She must be the young girl’s mother. Her eyes are fixed on the front door, and she looks like she’s considering storming the house. 

From the burns on her dress, I’d say she’s already tried and it didn’t work. 

As if she knows she’s being watched, her eyes flick to the left, and she catches me staring. Our gazes meet, and hold. I can feel her pain, even from this distance. 

I can’t look away, even though I know I need to leave.  

CHAPTER FOUR 

The woman has some kind of magic, perhaps witch magic, low and unobtrusive. Her blue eyes bore into me and I know she's trying to force me to stay.  

Her face is regal, like she should be in charge in this village, instead of Antonus. It feels like she's searching my face, taking in my scars, deciding my fate. I swallow hard and concentrate on breaking out of her gaze. No one is going to determine my fate but me. 

One magic-filled blink and it’s done. 

Then I back away, turning and running back down the path beside Antonus’s house. I skip over the fence and into his neighbor’s garden, then a couple fences more before crossing down a side path and back out onto the main street. 

Glancing back, I let out a sigh of relief. No one following me. 

The sooner I leave this place the better. Even the air seems unpleasant, acrid. 

Bitter. Something bad is going to happen in this village, I can feel it. The sooner I get out of here, the better. I'm already dangerously close to being executed for my own actions. I don't need to accidentally end up part of someone else's problems. 

I march past the same two people who were there on the way in, determined to get out of here before everything erupts. This time their eyes follow me, angry frowns fixed on their faces. I’m aligned with Antonus, so it becomes in part my fault. 

And it will be. 

The stray thought takes my breath away. Her death will lie around my shoulders like an uncomfortable cloak if I leave here without helping her. A young woman—not so dissimilar to me—accused of something that she may or may not have done. Over an old law that makes no sense. 

Magic should be for everyone. It shouldn't be hoarded by old men who don't even have the compassion to use it properly. 

Angrily, I pull my satchel properly over my shoulders and take determined strides away from the village. It's none of my business. I can't take on an old mage like Antonus and win. She knew the risks when she did magic in a mage’s home. It’s not up to me to protect her from the old laws. Everyone knows them. We all take a risk when we break them. 

I let out a rush of breath and stop walking. The strap of my bag is digging into my shoulder and that one thought is still reverberating around inside my head. If I do nothing, I will be complicit in her death. I will share some of the blame, and it will land heavier on me than it ever will on Antonus. 

Groaning, I turn and look back to the village. 

I’m at the outskirts, past the last house. I could leave, even now. But instead of leaving, I pull the satchel from my back, and hide it behind a thicket of bushes. I stand and stare at the empty street, wondering what the hell I think I'm doing. 

This is a bad decision. It feels like something I should run from without hesitation. But the alternative, to live with this girl’s death praying at the edges of my consciousness for the rest of my life, wondering what I could have done, whether I could have helped... that seems worse. 

I walk slowly back along the dirt road toward the center of the village, still conflicted. Am I really going to do this? It seems foolhardy. I haven't gone far when a movement between two houses makes me jerk reflexively. I stop and glare into the shadows, my magic fizzing, ready to meet whatever threat is hiding there.  

“I wondered when you’d realize you couldn’t leave,” says a voice I don't recognize. 

But then the tall woman from the crowd steps out from the shadows, her long hair flowing behind her and her stern gaze fixed on my face. She was following me. 

I let out a relieved breath and shake my head. “This isn’t my business,” I say unconvincingly. 

“It is all our business. The mages can’t be allowed to murder people whenever they feel like it.” 

“It’s an old law, she should have known better,” I say, but even to my own ears, I can tell I don't believe it. I’m breaking so many of the old laws on a daily basis that I can’t see them properly anymore. 

“I think you know better than anyone how they might be broken,” she says softly, like she knows my secret. Maybe she does. 

My eyes narrow, and I look at her closely. That she has her own magic is plain to see. It’s nothing more than what the old mages would call forest magic, not good enough to bring out of the woods. 

That she knows about my magic is a whole other issue. “You should be careful how you talk. Your daughter proves how that can work against you.” 

A pained expression filters across her face. “She is not my daughter. My niece. Her parents died when she was small, and she was left to my care.” 

“So you taught her a little more than she should know?” 

“It seemed harmless.” She glances back to where the crowd can be seen at the far end of the dirt road. “I can see now that it wasn’t.” 

“It never is.” Thornal taught me everything I know, and it's a burden as much as it is an honor. My magic is part of me, right down to my very bones, but it's also the reason I'm going to die before my time, just like this girl. 

“Will you help her?” 

Her bald question leaves me unsettled, and I try to think through the problem. It seems a terrible mess of confusing ideas. Thornal must be protected above all others, but I know for a fact he would deplore the death of the young girl in Antonus’s spell room. “I don’t know. It’s dangerous. There’s more at stake than just my life,” I warn her. 

“She is young, an innocent. One foolhardy attempt to save a friend, and now she is to lose her life.” 

“What happened to her friend?” I say, despite myself. 

“Her friend was stung by the prickle root. He is in the fever stage.” 

“Take me to him,” I say quickly. “I can save him, as long as he has not gone past that stage.” 

“And Elena?” 

“I will see what I can do.” It's as much of a promise as I'm willing to give right now. But the fact that I'm moving further back into the village makes my help inevitable. 

She seems to accept this. “My name is Helen.” 

I nod in greeting but don’t reciprocate. The less they know about me, the better. I’m easily recognizable because of my burn scars, but a name has power. 

I follow Helen down the side path, her long legs making easy work of the distance. I have to half run to keep up with her. She leads me to a small cottage with a cheerful blue door and flowers in the window sills. There’s a heavy stillness about it that makes me shiver despite the heat of the day. 

Opening the door, she beckons for me to follow her into the darkened interior. Blinking, it takes me a moment to adjust my eyes to the dim light. There’s a patient lying in the bed on the far side of the room. An older woman is hovering around the edge of the room, glancing from me to Helen and back. She’s holding her hands tightly together in front of her like she’s steeling herself for more bad news. 

“This one might be able to help us,” says Helen, gesturing at me. 

“Oh, please save him," says the woman, her eyes filling with tears. "He’s my only son. I cannot lose him, too.” 

I walk quickly over to the young man lying on the bed. He’s strong and handsome, that much I can still tell, despite the ravages of the prickle root. It’s created purple veins along his arms and neck, its spidery ends reaching up toward his face. It’s almost too late for him. 

Almost. 

“Where is the place he was breached by the thorns?” I ask. 

His mother is hovering just behind me. “Right there,” she says, pointing to his closest arm. The veins are thick over the small circular hole. So much poison from such a little mark. 

I place my fingers on either side of his head. Then I stop and glance behind me. “I need both of you to look away. If anyone asks, you can honestly say you didn’t see anything.” 

They both turn instantly without questioning me. 

I put my hands back to his head and close my eyes. I gather my magic from the fiery core where it hides for most of the day. It crackles along my veins, excited to be escaping the confines of my body. 

I let it pour out into the young man, stinging the poison that has infiltrated his body, pushing it back to the place where the thorns first entered his body. 

“A container, a bag, quickly please,” I say urgently. 

A leather pouch is shoved into my hands, and I hold it near where the puncture wound from the prickle thorn shows clearly on his arm. The poison is flowing back from the body, and it soon starts trickling out of the wound. 

It’s a useful ingredient to have on hand. I’m not going to miss an opportunity to harvest it. 

Taking care not to let the liquid touch my body, I allow it to flow into the pouch. Soon it’s all gone from his body. I close up the top of the small bag with the leather ties attached for that purpose. 

“He may remain asleep for a while longer, but the poison is gone. He should make a full recovery.” 

The mother rushes over to me and wraps me in a massive hug. I struggle a little, the burns down the side of my body making me sensitive to touch, but it’s no use. 

She’s oblivious.

She thought her son was dying, and I’ve just saved him using magic I shouldn’t possess.

It's a dangerous thing to be doing in front of two people I don't know. My fingers are shaking and I'm starting to think maybe I've lost my mind.

CHAPTER FIVE 

“You understand that if anyone ever finds out what I just did, I’ll be in the same position as the girl Antonus has?” I say sternly when she finally lets me go. 

“I would never say a word,” she gushes instantly. 

My heart sinks. She’s exactly the kind of person who thinks they’re the soul of discretion but isn’t. I nod at her as if I’m agreeing, and then I use the leftover magic still in my fingertips to touch her forehead. 

Instantly she stills, her face goes slack and her eyes glaze over. 

“You will not remember me. You will remember a man, a mage, tall with mysterious eyes and a beard. That is who saved your boy,” I say softly, my voice weaving in around her, mesmerising her. 

“Yes,” she nods enthusiastically. “He was tall, with beautiful eyes.” 

“Yes. That’s him.” 

“I need to leave now,” I say to Helen, who is watching me with her dark eyes. She nods and leads the way. 

“May the warmth always be yours,” she says to the mother as we go. 

“And yours,” she replies, but she’s by her son’s bed, softly smoothing her hand over his forehead. She doesn’t notice us leaving. 

“Is that what you will do to me when you go?” asks Helen softly. 

“You’re a magical creature, as am I. I trust you to keep quiet.” 

“But you could do it?” 

“It would be much harder and a bigger drain on my magic. But yes, I could.” 

She’s silent as she leads me around behind the houses back toward Antonus’s house. The noise of the crowd is starting to become louder. 

“What will they do?” I ask Helen. 

“I don’t think they will do anything,” she replies. “They all know and love Elena, but they’re afraid of Antonus. And she was caught breaking an old mage law. Many of them believe that some kind of justice must be served.” 

“Then why do they gather?” 

Helen shrugs. “To be there with her?” 

“What is it you want me to do?” 

Helen shakes her head, clearly at a loss. “I don’t know. Anything you can to save her? She doesn’t deserve this.” 

I nod slowly. No one deserves it, and no one feels it more than I. “I don’t know if I can help, but I will try. Antonus is a powerful mage.” 

“He’s also hidebound and riddled with routines,” says Helen. “I have worked for him many years now. I know his habits.” 

“How is it that I don’t know you?” I ask curiously. I didn’t know the girl, Elena, either. 

“Antonus jealously guards his privacy. On the days when you are due to arrive, he sends us off on errands. He doesn’t like to have us watching him as he makes his deals.” 

“Because he’s trying to fleece me every time,” I mutter. 

“He does that in everything,” she replies. 

My brain is thinking quickly, trying to figure out how to save the young girl, Elena. But everything I think of is too impossible, too difficult. 

We arrive at the back of Antonus’s house and crouch down in the trees at the back of his garden. He has rows of herb beds, strange and knarled trees growing in a weird twisted orchard and rows of flowers to attract the bees. 

The murmur of the crowd at the front is carried to us on the wind. 

“I can’t get past his protections on the house,” I say.  

“He will let me in, I think.” 

I nod. 

“That magical cage that he has around her is going to be a problem. I’ve not seen anything like it before. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to undo it.” 

Helen nods. “Maybe you don’t have to? He would have to undo it just before he plans to . . .” She swallows. “. . . execute Elena.” 

I nod, chewing absently on the good side of my lip. My burns are aching, possibly from the rough hug I received, but also from the magic I just used and the effort it’s costing me to stay here and save the girl, Elena. 

“Where can she go if I save her?” I ask. “Do you know somewhere?” 

“I will send her far from here,” Helen vows. 

“Did she really use magic? Is she like you?” 

Helen nods brusquely. “She has more than me.” She hesitates. “How is it that you are so powerful? Where did you learn your magic?” 

I shake my head. “That’s a tale I will never tell. It’s enough that I have it and am willing to attempt this insanity for someone I’ve never met.” 

“I will be forever in your debt. Anything you may need, at any time. All you have to do is call on me.” 

“Don’t start making promises until I’ve actually saved her.” A trickle of dread goes down my spine. 

“It doesn’t matter if you save her,” says Helen with a shrug. “You’re risking your life in an attempt. That’s more than was possible before you came.” 

I’m still shaking my head. I’m fairly certain I’m not going to be able to save this girl. The odds are stacked too much against us. I refuse to have someone be grateful to me for trying. 

“Wait until I’ve saved her before promising me anything,” I mutter. 

The noise of the crowd changes, becoming louder and more aggressive. “What’s happening? We need to find out,” I say. 

She nods and we both scurry along the edges of the garden, down the side of his house, and emerge at the side of the crowd. Antonus is standing on his balcony again, addressing the crowd. 

“. . . She has admitted to her crime, which makes the judgement easier. You may disperse and return here in the morning to watch her death,” he says, making motions with his hands. 

Beside me, I feel Helen’s shudder. 

But the crowd refuses to budge, most people not looking him in the eye but muttering amongst themselves in a general way. 

“They won’t go,” I say wonderingly. I can feel the push of the magic that Antonus is trying to use against them, but they’re resisting. “We can use the group against him.” 

“How? They’re just ordinary folk, all of them. I’m an aberation.” 

“There’s power in their numbers, and Antonus can’t break that. I don’t know why. Perhaps it is to do with their combined feelings for Elena. She is generally loved, isn’t she?” 

“Very much so. She is a darling of the village. She would do anything for anyone.” 

“A charming girl as well, I’m sure?” Beneath the dirt and grime of the caged girl, it had been obvious that she was pretty too. 

“Certainly,” says Helen. He eyes are narrowed at me, and I can tell she’s impatient with my questions. 

“It seems to me that the power of the crowd is enough to keep Antonus busy while we free her. We have to get them riled up at the right moment.” 

“When will that be?” 

“No time like the present,” I say. 

“I thought you couldn’t get the magical bars off her?” 

“I’m sure I’ll figure it out,” I say, suddenly certain we have to act now. “I don’t think we should wait til he’s about to execute her. The crowd might have dispersed or be less magical. I’ve never seen this before. I don’t know how it works, but we have to take advantage of it while we can.” A strange sense of certainty is running at my heels, telling me to take action right now. I know better than to ignore it. 

“What do we do?” 

I hesitate for a moment, considering the people in front of me. I recall the words I heard as I first arrived. “Let’s get amongst the people and start spreading a few words in their ears.” 

Antonus is still standing up at the front of the crowd, looking down at the group. His face shows a mixture of emotions: anger, annoyance, superiority, but underneath it all, there’s also fear in his eyes. He knows that he doesn’t have control of the situation, and it’s scaring him. 

So it should. 

CHAPTER SIX 

“I need something to help disguise me,” I say to Helen as I duck behind a farmer in the crowd. 

She removes the scarf from around her neck and wraps it over my head, tying it under my chin, like I’m protecting my head from the sun. It’s not much of a disguise, but it will have to do. The burns on my face stand out like a sore thumb, so I use a tiny distraction spell to stop people looking too closely at me. 

I’m more worried about Antonus feeling the magic that I’m using and becoming suspicious. 

That would certainly end everything I’m trying to do here. In a straight out battle of the mages, he’d win every time. 

Up on the balcony, Antonus huffs to himself but clearly gives up. He storms back to his front door and strides through, slamming the door after him. I watch the front door broodingly for a few minutes. Will it be enough? Is he fool enough for my plan to work? 

I don’t know. 

“What do we want them to feel?” whispers Helen, interrupting my thoughts. 

“Anger at Antonus. We need to start suggesting that he’s wrong, that Elena would never do this kind of thing. That he’s trying to show off his power.” 

She nods and smiles at a woman next to her. She leans into her ear, clearly murmuring something shocking to the woman. 

She leads me through the crowd, stopping to talk to a person here and a person there. It becomes immediately obvious that she knows them all intimately when the random people she speaks to all immediately turn to their neighbors and pass on the information. 

The rumors and talk flow across the crowd, and the energy levels rise. Tiny pieces of magic blossom out of the people connecting around me, and I take a deep breath. It’s like the tiny drops of water left on a flower petal after a light summer rain. Fresh, delicate and beautiful. 

Ready to be used. 

There’s one last moment to doubt what I’m doing, to wonder if now is the moment to change my mind and disappear from this place. And then I’m gathering the magic to me, using it to swell my own resources. I push a little of that magic back out again, changed slightly to my purpose. 

The people start to murmur in agitation, their voices getting louder and louder. Their anger is directed toward Antonus, and a few of the bolder men push forward, followed by the rest of the crowd just behind. 

The wards at the steps of the mage’s house sizzle with energy, but they’re clearly not designed to hold back this kind of magic. Somehow, it slips in through the cracks, the power of the many somehow overcoming the magic of the one. 

The stream of villagers move as one up the steps.

Two of the men produce axes from somewhere, and they smash in the front door, pushing their way into the house without a thought for their own well-being. 

Another urgent foretelling surges through me. “We need to be near the front of the crowd,” I say to Helen, grabbing her wrist and pulling her with me. I need to protect these innocent people from Antonus and any possible repercussions he may choose to enact. 

We manage to push our way through to the front, despite the burgeoning discontent in the densely packed crowd. I’m sending out calming magic as we go, trying to stop the people gathered from taking out their anger on each other rather than the mage. I’m careful to keep the magic to a low level, to avoid Antonus’s attention. 

Pushing past the last few people, Helen and I spill into the living area of the house, which is just through the front door. We’re among the first to enter, and the others with us, mostly men, blink rapidly and look around in sudden fear. 

The cosy room seems somehow sinister, its easy comfort an awkward counterpoint to the anger of the people who’ve fought their way in. 

The magic that has pushed the villagers this far is waning, and reality is hitting. 

They’re going up against a powerful mage, the man who has kept their village safe and their lives tranquil for the last fifty years. They’re starting to realize this isn’t such a good idea. 

But I’m ready for this, and I push out some of the magic they created earlier, giving them their courage back, and helping them stay standing. Villagers are still streaming into the room from outside, until there are around 20 people gathered in the living area. 

Antonus comes in to the room from another door, his expression grim. “What foolishness is this?” he says. “How dare you enter my home?” 

“We’re here for the girl,” says one man, standing head and shoulders over the others in the room, his expression defiant. “She’s innocent of your accusations. She’s a good girl.” 

“She is not innocent,” says Antonus stoutly, clearly unused to being accused of lying. 

“Prove it,” I whisper in an undertone. 

“Prove it,” says the tall man. His attractive green eyes look bewildered, but his mouth repeats the words: “Prove it to us.” 

“Prove it?” Antonus repeats in shocked accents. “You insist that I, Antonus, must prove my judgement to you?” He flicks up a wrist and prepares a spell that will knock the man dead where he’s standing. 

Still using the crowd’s combined magic as a cover, I gather some of my own magic and whisper the words of a protection spell and throw it over everyone milling uncertainly in the room. 

Antonus throws out his death-spell, but instead of killing the tall man where he stands, it hits my protection and bright white sparks arc around the room. Some of the sparks go out, but others glow brightly, and land on pieces of wooden furniture and on the rug-covered floor. 

Antonus works quickly to put out the multiple tiny embers before they light up the house, his face white. His eyes have sunken into the sockets, and his hands are shaking. 

“Fine. I will prove it to you,” he says. Then he disappears down the hallway. 

I hesitate, not sure whether to trust the old man, but he’s back in a moment, dragging the hapless Elena by one arm. He flicks an honesty spell over her body. 

“Now girl, answer me this—were you trying to use a mage spell for your own purposes?” 

She starts sobbing, her body wracked with each broken cry. 

Antonus shakes her arm viciously. “Answer the question.” 

She nods. “I was trying to save Jonus,” she whispers. “He will die if I don’t help him.” 

Antonus looks up triumphantly at the crowded room. “Is that enough for you?” 

“Why didn’t you ask the mage to save the boy?” I whisper. 

“Why didn’t you ask the mage to save the boy?” asks the tall man again. He glances around him in surprise as the words fall from his mouth. I think if he could, he’d put his hands over his lips to avoid saying anything more. 

“I did ask him! I did! He said he didn’t care for the fate of some foolish young man,” says the girl in anguished accents. 

Every person in the room turns to stare at Antonus. I can feel the outrage building up, almost like another physical presence in the room. 

Antonus’s only saving grace has always been the way he looked after the village. If he can’t be counted on to take care of one young man, how can he be counted on to look after the rest? 

The magic of the crowd swells again, and somehow I’m able to ride the wave and gather some of the magic inside my body, along with my own. I have a feeling I’m going to need it, if the current sentiment toward Antonus is any indication. 

The knowledge of what is happening inside the room filters back to those outside. The emotions of the crowd rise to painful heights, and I try to figure out the best way to use them to my advantage. 

The easiest would be to throw a major spell at Antonus, get him to retreat back into his hall and let us take the girl. But that would give away the fact that there is another mage in the room, and I don’t want to do that. I’m not willing to lose the cover of the crowd’s energy. It’s successfully hiding the fact that I’m the puppet master behind this scenario. 

The two men in the front take a step forward, without any urging from me. “Is this true, old man? Did she ask for help, and you refused?” 

CHAPTER SEVEN 

Antonus waves a hand. “I can’t be expected to save every pesky idiot from every little ailment,” he says testily. 

“Even if it’s easy work for a master such as yourself?” asks Helen, taking a step forward, away from me. Her face is a mask of rage, and her hands are clenched at her side. 

I try to grab her arm, to pull her back out of the theatre in front of us. She makes an easy target, a way to change the nature of what’s happening in the room. 

But she pulls out of my grasp and takes another step forward. I urgently weave a little bit of extra protection over Helen, even as Antonus’s narrowed eyes take in his newest opponent. 

“Ah yes, I wondered when you’d show your face. Another law breaker. You’re as bad as Elena. Using magic where you shouldn’t,” sneers Antonus. 

The people in the room gasp at the accusation. It’s heavy with the threat of death, and from the moment of his uttering it, there can be no way for Helen to leave this room without either judgement from Antonus or by disappearing and never returning. 

But it's the same for Elena. By standing up to Antonus, Helen is aligning her path with her young niece, not letting her protégé disappear on her own. 

“You use your magic for your own purposes, never for the benefit of the village. Where is the goodness in that?” she replies calmly, although I can see her hands shaking. 

“Goodness? A mage needn’t be good. It is my role to be wise and just.” 

“You are neither of those things, Master Antonus,” says Helen. 

Antonus reacts with a bolt of magic aimed directly at Helen’s heart. The protection spell I placed over her holds for a moment, and then she flies back against the far wall, her body falling limply to the ground. I want to run to her, but manage to hold my place, hiding in plain sight from Antonus. 

Desperately, I try to think of a way to end this quickly and with no further showdowns. 

My mind is a blank. 

Antonus glares around the rest of the room. “Anyone else want to call me names?” he asks. 

“Is attacking defenseless women how mages show their wisdom?” The words pour out of my mouth like they’re someone else’s. I quickly wrap a minor confusion spell over the distinctive burns on my face, hoping that Antonus is too angry to pick up on them. 

“Women who break the old laws,” he replies, on firmer ground now. 

“What proof do you have of Helen’s illegal use of magic?” I ask. 

Antonus flicks an impatient hand in Helen’s direction. “She is not dead. Merely taught a lesson for attacking me.” His gaze narrows in my direction, and I lose my nerve, shrinking back behind a pot-bellied man in the crowded room. 

“You cannot give clemency to a young woman who made a mistake?” I whisper. 

The reluctant leader at the front of the room repeats my words. 

Antonus glares at the man. “Of course not. What is the point of the old laws if not to keep the peace and help us live in prosperity?” 

I can’t help the snort that pushes its way out my nose. 

The old laws are in place for many reasons, but they’re not for the benefit of the people. It’s only ever for the power of the mages. 

“You doubt me?” asks Antonus. “You dare to challenge me?” His voice rises in pitch, and his face turns a mottled red. 

Between his fingers, there rises up a bright red ball of fiery energy. It’s strong and vibrant and sends a buzz around the room. Possibly he only intended to show us his strength, to get us to back down in the face of his superior magic. 

But something comes forth in the room, an uncontrollable magic that rises to the challenge laid down by the old mage. 

It springs forth from the magic of the crowd, their conjoined energy, and lies heavily over the room like thick white fog on a cold night. I’ve never seen or heard about anything like it before, it’s wild magic, chaos in action. 

Maybe it’s the magic of the righteous? They are after all focused on saving a young girl from an unfair fate. Or maybe it’s something a little more simple. Just the magical friction caused by heated emotions and flaring tempers. Maybe it’s my presence here, my own magic that’s calling forth the magic encased in their souls. 

Whatever it is, however it was born, I’m glad it’s here.  

Without warning, Antonus’s magic spills from his hands, and the fiery red ball of his magic clashes against the white cloud of magic over our heads. Sparks fly, and a strange buzzing fills the air. 

All the hairs on my body stand on end, and without thinking I take control of the group’s magic, pushing back against the onslaught from Antonus. 

Antonus’s eyes bulge out of their sockets as he shoves his magic against the white cloud, trying to disperse the magic the villagers have created. His face is turning from red to purple as he tries to control his burst of energy.

Everyone else, including me, stands unmoving as the two magics clash overhead. The others seem frozen, unable to participate in any way. I’m struggling under the strain of taking on a powerful mage like Antonus, with years, maybe centuries, of experience over me. I’ve been learning magic for the last three years, in secret, under the tutelage of Thornal. 

The enormity of what I’m doing threatens to make my knees buckle from under me. My vision blurs and I wish I could find a way to leave right now and never come back. I can’t see an easy way out of this, a way that will leave me free to go back to Thornal, and Antonus none the wiser. 

I clench my fists. I’m here, it’s done. There’s no going back. I just have to save what I can. Using whatever magic I can. 

CHAPTER EIGHT 

Glaring up at the magic circling overhead, I concentrate on surrounding and defeating Antonus’s red ball of raw magic.

It’s almost too bright to look at, and it’s giving off a strange uncomfortable noise, like something is not quite right with the way it’s been made.

I swallow hard and glance over at Antonus. Is he even in control of it? I’m not entirely certain. What concerns me most is that the magic that’s clashing here isn’t the kind that can be easily taken back.

If something goes wrong, if Antonus loses control, the magic could kill us all.

I think I’m the only one in the room, other than Antonus, who realizes this.

From outside, the crowd is still surging forward, trying to see what’s happening. Much of their anger is gone, replaced by fear and awe. It’s causing the white light to dwindle in the room, and Antonus’s red fiery magic is gaining control. I’m having to use more and more of my own magic.

His face is purply-red and veins are standing out on his neck. I can see he’s determined he’s not going to lose. He’s also not going to be pleased once this is over. Heads will roll.

I can’t let him win. I have no other choices.

Trying not to think too hard about what this decision is going to mean for me, I plant my feet firmly on the ground and gather the communal magic firmly together, pulling on the remains and adding even more of my own. It surges forth like an eager horse that’s been in the stable too long, and wraps its fingers around the red ball of energy.

Squeezing tighter and tighter, I let my magic choke the life out of Antonus’s red ball of energy until it’s nothing more than a tiny nugget in the air over our heads.

I glance to Antonus. He’s swaying where he stands. He’s used his every fibre of his being to fight the magic we created, and now he’s spent.

One last shaft of energy from my magic, and Antonus’s red ball of light disappears.

The old mage looks over at me, shock in every line of his face.

My heart beat slows and the blood drains from my face. He’s recognised where the magic came from.

He knows what I am.

How am I going to get out of this? A million thoughts rampage through my brain, each one more insane than the last. There’s nothing I can do, short of murder, that will salvage this situation. I have to—

Antonus’s eyes flutter and he slides to the floor in a dead faint.

The other people in the room come to life as if they’ve been set free from some kind of spell. Perhaps they have, I don’t know.

Beside Antonus’s body, Elena crouches, her wide eyes gazing at me in a mix of admiration and fear.

“Quickly, we must remove Elena from the village.” I glance over at Helen’s immobile body. “And Helen too.”

I go to Antonus’s side, not even checking that the others in the room are doing my bidding. The remnants of magic are floating in the air, and I am fully in charge of them. There’s no way for non-magic users to disobey me right now.

Elena shakes her head and refuses to move. I sigh. She obviously has the same strain of magic in her as Helen.

“You must leave. I have to deal with Antonus.”

“Who are you? How did you do that? Will you teach me?” The words come out in a rush, and her eyes are wide with admiration for what I’ve just done.

I shake my head, exasperated. “I cannot teach anyone. You must leave this village and never return.”

Elena stubbornly shakes her head. “I cannot leave my home.” She glares down at Antonus, as if expecting the mage to leave in her stead.

I grasp her hand. “Elena, you must. You have no choice.”

“Then I will go with you, and learn your magic.”

I shake my head in frustration. “I’m not a teacher. I'm a servant. I cannot teach you.” My words are short. The scars on one side of my face are stretched tight as my annoyance rises to the surface. I've already risked myself for this girl, I'm not doing it again.

“Please? We will need help and protection.”

“You need nothing but your wits and your common sense,” I say. “Leave me. Go tend your Aunt Helen. She gave up her life here for you.” Turning away from her, I focus my attention on Antonus, and place my hands on his forehead.

Elena waits a moment longer until I glare up at her. Then she scrambles to her feet and leaves my side.

Antonus is still out cold, his skin clammy and pale. His energy was completely depleted by the battle. Even so, he’s still more powerful than I am, and I’m not sure what I can do.

I wish he could just forget I was ever here.

My mind jumps to the memory charm I did on the mother of the man I saved. Could something so simple work on Antonus? He’s a mage, and most likely has some kind of protective charm surrounding him. A memory charm wouldn’t usually work on a Mage at all, of that I was certain.

But Antonus is still buried in a deep faint.

The thought keeps coming back to me, making me wonder about how badly his magic is depleted. There’s a chance I could get in under the protections he’s put in place while he’s still out cold. All I have to do is blur out the moment of recognition where he saw me and what I'd done. I can't get rid of the last day and his memories of Elena using magic, but a single moment might be possible.   

But if the memory charm isn’t strong enough or doesn’t manage to get under his defenses, he’ll remember everything and come after me—and through me, Thornal. That thought has me hesitating over his prone body. I have to do this properly, not for me, but for Thornal. I can't let him be hurt because of my stupid decisions. If the other Mages on the Council learn he taught a lowly servant-girl all his magic, they'd execute him, right after me, no matter that he's so powerful.

He wouldn't be able to stop them—he's still just one man against many.

I bite my lip, thinking back to the page in the Book of Spells on memory charms, and how they worked. Fear and doubt gnaw at my insides, but there’s enough of a chance I can do this to give me hope.

I have to at least try.

CHAPTER NINE 

Placing shaking fingers over the old mage’s scalp, I push down, trying to keep the pressure even. I focus on driving my remaining magic into his head, infecting his memories and making them hazy. I blur my face, turn my features into a man’s, and become a wandering mage, intent on troublemaking. I change his recollection of the outcome and allow Antonus to think he won, defeating the troublemaker. 

His orders to dispose of three bodies—the wandering mage, the girl Elena, and her aunt Helen—far from the village ring clearly through his memory. The false memories slip easily into his mind, a far more palatable version for the old mage than what really happened. 

He need never think of this afternoon’s defeat again. 

I take my fingers from his scalp and wince when a sharp pain runs up the side of my arm. I’m sore all over, the magic battering my body just as surely as a long ride or walk would have done. The only reason I’m not out cold like Antonus is that I was riding the wave of the communal village magic, using it as well as my own to defeat him. 

I stand up slowly, forcing myself into movement when I would prefer to lie still, and leave the old mage where he’s lying. 

“Put him to bed,” I say to the two men standing nearby, one of them the tall man who ended up as spokesperson for the village. “Hopefully he won’t wake again until morning.” 

I’m trembling, my fear pushing hard at me. I have no guarantees that my memory charms will work. He could wake in the morning, and remember everything. 

The only thing I have going for me is the ego of Antonus, and his mind’s obvious preference for my version of events. 

If nothing else, I vow to find another source of the particular herbs and spices he is so good with. I’m not coming back to this village if I can help it. 

Surely it can’t be too hard to grow them myself? 

I’m not sure what I’m going to tell Thornal, probably as little as possible. But then the old mage can tell when I’m hiding something from him. I don’t know if it’s magic, or just that he’s good at reading people, but he often knows there’s something wrong without my having to say a word. It’s an annoying habit of his. 

Against the wall, Helen is awake again, but she looks pale and shaken by the aftereffects of being thrown across the room. Elena is helping her mentor to a sitting position. I crouch down beside them and assess Helen closely, trying to make sure she’s not seriously hurt. 

“Thank you,” Helen whispers. “I don’t how you did this, but thank you.” 

I shrug, uncomfortable with the praise. “I did nothing. It was the power of the crowd that turned the tide.” 

“You wielded the magic,” murmured Helen. 

“I’ll thank you to never repeat that ever again,” I say sharply. “It would mean my life.” 

“It should not be that way. We have as much right as men,” says Elena staunchly, her face set in mutinous lines. 

“I choose not to be the figurehead of your new ideas,” I insist. “Keep my name out of your thoughts and your speech.” 

Elena opens her mouth to argue, but Helen puts one hand on Elena’s arm, silencing her. “As you wish,” says the older woman. “We owe you a life debt. If ever you should need either of us, we will help you to the best of our ability.” 

I shake my head, unwilling to have a life debt hanging over my head. “I do not accept your terms. There is no debt,” I say desperately. 

Helen gives a small half smile. “The words have been spoken.” 

I shake my head and push myself back to standing. “I must leave this village. I don’t need anyone else remembering me. I have a distinctive face.” 

Elena stands next to me. “You have a most beloved face,” she says fervently, her blue eyes shining up at me. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” 

I brush aside her words, uncomfortable with her hero-worship. “Leave this place, and soon. Tell the villagers to never mention your names to Antonus again. And tell them I was a man, a travelling mage, not a woman,” I say, recalling my memory charm. “Tell them that in his memories, we three are dead. It would be best if it were to remain that way.” 

I reach out with one hand and we clasp forearms, in the way of soldiers and other comrades in arms. It’s all I can offer them. 

Then I turn and leave by the back door, quickly and quietly. 

As I go, I whisper the words of my usual confusion spell that will make me seem more like a man in their memories, and try to keep my head down and my face averted from the prying eyes around me. 

I make it back to my satchel and sling it over my shoulder. I give an involuntary groan as its weight hits my shoulder and stand motionless for a while. I’m gritty, grimy and weary right through to my bones. What I really need is sleep, not the long journey home. 

But then I force my feet to get moving. 

One step at a time.

Thanks so much for reading Subtle Magic.

Click this link to purchase Fire Mage, book one in the series.