Bound Magic Page 4

  There was an irony there. The Faerene had made it clear that all the human familiar candidates at the trial either chose to be a familiar, or would be executed. I hadn’t chosen my future with Istvan freely or fully. Neither of us knew how the bond would develop, although I was by far the more ignorant.

  “I can accept that,” Rory said. “For now.” He released me and joined the four founding members of his pack. They bowed to Istvan. “I, Rory of the Hope Fang Pack…”

  I blinked. Hope Fang? Faerene naming traditions were distinctly different to human ones. I also, belatedly, realized that we weren’t speaking English. Yet I understood. At the trials in the Pontic Mountains, a translation spell had ensured that everyone could communicate with everyone else. But here…I made a mental note to ask Istvan if my understanding was due to a spell or to the work of our familiar bond.

  Rory continued his oath. “…do commit to guard Magistrate Istvan in his service to the North American Territory for seven years.”

  The others repeated the oath individually.

  “Welcome, Pack Hope Fang,” Istvan said. “And thank you for your commitment to the future of the territory. I expect you’d like to see the site I’ve chosen for the magistrate hall?” Without waiting for their assent, he opened a portal.

  We walked through it; me beside Istvan and everyone else following. The portal closed, leaving us looking across a wide river. By the setting sun, it was easy to tell that we faced west.

  “We’re just south of the confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. The North American Territory takes in everything north of a line from San Francisco to Houston.”

  My brain stuttered. “One magistrate for all of that?”

  “Istvan doesn’t like working with a junior magistrate,” Rory said. “We’re lucky he agreed to take us on.”

  I gawked at my magician partner.

  His head tilted up at a proud angle.

  Annoyed, I stomped on his foot. It wasn’t a heavy enough stomp to hurt his leonine paw, but it certainly got his attention. I glared at him. “Maybe I can’t join a pack yet or be with my family, but I am not going along with you being a lone hero. Spreading yourself thin across a territory this big is stupid.”

  Oscar coughed.

  Nils grinned.

  The three werewolves watched cannily. This was a power struggle and a defining moment in my relationship with Istvan.

  “I accepted a guard unit,” my magician partner grumbled. “And it’s not like this site will stay empty for long.” Somehow he managed to sigh through his beak. It gave the sound a hissing edge. He sank into a crouch, reducing himself to my level. “Magistrate halls attract people to them to sell goods and services, to trade information, and simply to feel safe. Yelena, who was originally assigned this territory, had intended to establish her magistrate hall in Atlanta. I prefer a location without a human settlement. This will begin as a Faerene town.”

  “Name?” Oscar prompted.

  “I intend to call the town Justice. I spent the day studying the briefing papers and maps, and adapting my design for a magistrate hall to conditions here. I will begin construction tomorrow, since Amy, Rory and I are overdue sleep.”

  The time difference between the Pontic Mountains and America wasn’t in our favor. We were, indeed, overdue sleep.

  “Not that I’m dictating your sleeping and guarding arrangements,” he said to Rory.

  I, apparently, was to sleep when told to. Then, again, I was tired enough to sleep on the cold ground.

  “We’ll scout the area,” Yana said.

  Berre nodded.

  The two were darker skinned than Rory with brown hair and grayish hazel eyes. Yana was skinny, but toned. Berre was wide, a physical powerhouse.

  Oscar reached into empty air and pulled out a futon, similar in style to the bed I’d slept on at the trials.

  “How?” I accepted the bedroll without thanks, my attention on the empty air.

  “A quartermaster has his secrets,” Oscar said solemnly. So solemnly that I almost missed that he was teasing me. “I have a pocket dimension in which I can store a few things.”

  “We’ll sleep as wolves,” Rory said.

  “No bed for me.” Nils was already wandering off.

  Rory leaned close to me. “He’ll be scouting for threats even as he studies the plant life. Don’t believe Nils’s absent-minded academic pose. He’s deadly.” Rory smiled. Evidently, being surrounded by killers was meant to reassure me.

  Oscar shook his head. “Hungry?”

  “No. Thank you.” After Stella’s late and lavish lunch, I’d be fine till morning.

  “Unroll your bed beside me,” Istvan said.

  Being near his large body would keep me warm as well as safe.

  Rory faded into the trees. By the time I had my bed rolled out, he’d returned in his wolf form carrying his clothes, boots included, in his mouth. He spat them out near the foot of my bed.

  “Bathroom break,” I announced and held my breath.

  Fortunately, Rory could take a hint when it was shouted at him. He stayed put.

  Rebuckling my belt, I silently lamented lost amenities. The days of hot running water and hand sanitizer were long past. I ventured cautiously to the edge of the river and washed my hands.

  When I returned to my bedroll, Oscar had set up a cooking fire and his own bed a short distance away.

  I tucked my blanket around me and used one of my satchels as a leathery pillow.

  Rory snuggled up, taking shameless advantage of his cuddly, furry form to invade my personal space.

  Between him and Istvan, I was soon toasty warm, and seconds after that, I fell asleep.

  In the morning, I discovered that Oscar was a miracle worker. We had hot flatbread dripping with honey plus coffee for breakfast. Istvan ate his fair share of the bread, but coffee didn’t seem to be one of his vices. It was definitely one of mine, and the smooth flavor of Oscar’s made me fall in love.

  “I’ll do the dishes,” I volunteered.

  He smiled at me. “No need. I have a spell for that. At least until we have a kitchen.” Oscar cast a wary eye in Istvan’s direction.

  Just what were the rules for magic use by the Faerene on Earth?

  “You’ll have a kitchen and other amenities by dinnertime,” Istvan promised. “In fact, if you will all move to the far side of the river, I will begin.”

  I assessed the width of the mighty Mississippi River. I didn’t think we were expected to swim it in the chill of fall, although the three werewolves probably could.

  “Do you like flying?” A smile lurked in Rory’s eyes.

  “In a plane?” But that was the pre-apocalypse world. Planes didn’t exist, now. Or maybe they did? Gliders could be built of non-petroleum products. I wouldn’t want to fly one, though. “Um, maybe?”

  “I’ll hold your hand,” Rory promised.

  Berre snorted.

  His mate elbowed him. Yana smiled at me. “Istvan and Rory use portals so casually you perhaps think they are easy, but few magicians are as proficient. Berre and I can hold small levitation spells, sufficient to support our own weight across the river. Rory will carry you.”

  And so he did, once we’d broken camp. The bedrolls and other equipment vanished back into Oscar’s invisible storage space. The gnome then levitated.

  Nils split from the group, going off roaming by himself.

  Rory clasped my hand and we followed Oscar gently across the river. The water glimmered beneath us. The air was cool, but our walking pace speed didn’t stir a wind. It was actually a rather charming method of travel.

  When I glanced at Yana, she and Berre had serious expressions indicative of deep concentration.

  “They’re fine,” Rory assured me. “Yana and Berre specialized in martial and protective magic. Levitation is too frivolous for them to have practiced it often, but they won’t fall.”

  Their boots struck the ground slightly more emphatically than mine and Rory’s.r />
  Following Istvan’s orders, we didn’t stick around but hiked away from the river. The land was flat, composed of overgrown fields. Judging by the vegetation lying dying around us, it had grown tobacco in the past. The plants hadn’t been harvested, and weeds had grown up around and through the abandoned crop.

  “Alluvial soil,” Oscar said. “Good farmland. I know some farmers. Staple crops first. Maize, yams, rice.”

  It was as if his observation and planning kicked my brain into life. Instead of looking without seeing, the ground around us suddenly told a story. I looked left and right. A line of overgrown debris marked a major flood months past. Alluvial soil was dumped by rivers when they flooded. It made for fertile land, but the price of it was danger and impermanence. The sort of floods the Mississippi experienced claimed lives.

  “There’s no one around,” I whispered.

  It wasn’t just Rory, walking near me, who overheard my comment. Yana and Berre’s heads turned sharply.

  “There are no people. No humans,” I said.

  Berre slowed his pace so that Rory and I drew even with him. “Fevers travelled the river this summer. Humans who survived have clustered in towns. The nearest is about fifty miles south.”

  And the towns in between were abandoned. I carefully breathed through my fear response. This was the apocalypse. Abandoned towns and cities would stand for decades as bleak memorials to what we had lost. Six sevenths of humanity had died.

  Behind us, Istvan was building something new.

  I kept walking. What else could I do?

  An hour later, the ground trembled. Instinctively, I looked to Rory for an explanation.

  “Istvan’s started,” he said. “Which means we can stop.”

  We’d found a road and been walking up it. Roads were a heck of a lot easier to travel along than fields, and our speed had increased. Oscar hadn’t complained, but with his shorter legs, the pace had been hardest on him. Now, he sat where he was.

  The rest of us turned and looked back. I squinted. Then I rubbed my eyes. I couldn’t judge the exact distance, but set back from the river on both banks, the earth was rising, and rising.

  Rory studied the scene intently. “Istvan is laying the foundations for a bridge across the river and for the town that will grow up around the magistrate hall.”

  “And he’ll do all that by magic? How long will it take?” The curious thing, to me, was that Oscar hadn’t taken out any supplies from his pocket dimension. Weren’t we camping here?

  Rory shrugged. “An hour. Maybe two.”

  I gaped at him.

  Yana laughed at my expression. “You have sworn an oath to a powerful magician, Amy. Others would take much longer. These are major magicks.”

  “But not compared to sealing the Rift.” Rory’s tone was absent-minded. He wasn’t correcting Yana.

  Nonetheless, she flushed.

  “Once Istvan has a plan, he’s unstoppable.” Now, Rory’s casual tone hid a deeper purpose. He was teaching me, coaching me on the nature of my magician partner, without crossing a line and interfering in the development of my familiar bond with Istvan. “When the foundations are in place, it’ll be safe for us to return to the river.”

  Which meant that in just over an hour, we were retracing our steps, although we stayed on this side of the river.

  I marveled at the immensity of the work Istvan accomplished with magic.

  The earthworks were extensive. Huge slabs of sandstone rose in step fashion on both sides of the river, reminiscent of a Mayan temple. The river could slam against it in full flood, but the town on the far side and the bridge across the river would endure. Not that either existed yet.

  I thought of all that Istvan had to be laying in place, not just flood defenses, but a means of supplying safe drinking water and a sewage system.

  “It’s impressive.” Oscar marched forward. While the rest of us stood at the top of the new mound staring across the Mississippi, the gnome started down the easy gradient of the ramp that led down to the river.

  Berre gave his shoulders a shake and began bounding down one of the two sets of stairs.

  Rory assessed everything with a professional eye. “Istvan will have been working on the design for this and the logistics of achieving it for decades.”

  I blinked, reminded that Magistrate Istvan was over six centuries old. I recalled my lessons at the trials. Goblins lived roughly human lifespans. Werewolves could live for centuries. Oscar and I would be fleeting memories to our companions.

  Unless being a human familiar changed things for me?

  I shivered and pushed that disconcerting thought away for later consideration. I had enough going on in front of me without freaking out at random suppositions. I might outlive all my human contemporaries, except for other familiars.

  I edged nearer to Rory and his stable strength.

  He responded by tucking me in front of him, arms encircling me loosely. “Istvan will have adapted the design to this site, but with the core spell created, he’s just channeling magic. Is he calling on your magic?”

  “Um. I haven’t felt anything.”

  “He probably isn’t. Despite the Cuffs of Compulsion he made using your magic at the trials, he’ll want to test combining your magic in gradations. He won’t delay setting up his magistrate hall by including your magic.”

  I nodded. “How big will the hall be?”

  “Big enough to accommodate griffins and dragons.” The imprecise measure was actually enlightening. Rory meant big. “A magistrate hall provides formal areas for hearing disputes as well as an archive and Istvan’s personal workroom. Since he’s inclined to look to the future and his successors’ needs, he’ll also have included a junior magistrate’s quarters. He’ll probably adapt that for your use. The guard unit’s quarters will be attached.”

  I twisted to look at him. “Separate?”

  He smiled at me, just his eyes. Just for me. “In the beginning we’ll be a single household. As formal as Istvan is, he’s not a snob. And he and I are friends. If Oscar gets hold of a cook, and I’m sure he’ll prioritize it, we’ll eat together. Magistrate, familiar, and guards.”

  “What does Istvan eat?”

  Rory chuckled, and rubbed his head against mine. “Cheese is his weakness. But he’s mainly a carnivore. So lightly seared meat. He enjoys spices. When he has the freedom to do so, he’ll probably hunt a lot of his own meals. But he’s a civilized person. He’ll join us at meals for the collegial bonding aspect.”

  He paused. “When you hugged him at the end of the trials, that was the right move. Istvan is a good friend, but he hides himself. You’re his familiar. He doesn’t get to hide from you. As much as I—” He cut himself off, mouth clamping shut.

  His chest pressed against my back with the force of his controlled inhale.

  I waited, watching Yana and Berre join Oscar in sitting on the lowest step of the new platform.

  Rory said steadily. “You need to expect and demand emotional support from Istvan as your magician partner, and provide it to him. I will keep you safe, and I want to be the one to do so, but Istvan will rightly send me away if I get in the middle of you two. You have to push and prod him to let you into his life. And you have to trust him and ask what you need of him.”

  “Like my family’s safety?”

  “Yes.”

  Standing within Rory’s embrace was distinctly different to Jarod’s hugs. The fact Rory was taller and more powerful wasn’t the issue. Jarod’s hugs were fraternal. There was no sexual element. With Rory…it was my turn to take a deep breath. It wasn’t just Rory who felt the attraction between us.

  I needed to take his advice—although he probably hadn’t meant for me to raise this particular topic, at least, not yet—and ask Istvan about werewolves’ social and sexual behavior and a whole host of other factors that might impact who I became involved with. It was by virtue of my being Istvan’s human familiar that I was being drawn into the heart of Faerene so
ciety, so it was only fair that he help me navigate it.

  One thing was clear. Istvan was responsible and wise. If he’d thought that Rory’s interest me would be detrimental, he wouldn’t have hired him to head his magisterial guard unit.

  I changed the subject. “How come I can understand you? You’re talking Faeraesh, and so am I. I can tell it’s not English, and yet, it’s natural to me. Is it a translation spell?”

  He was silent for a minute. Then he frowned. “There’s no spell on you. It must be the familiar bond. You speak the language Istvan speaks.”

  “And vice versa? You and Istvan were speaking easily with my family.”

  “No. For that we used a translation spell. Huh. I wonder how many other changes the familiar bond will make.” He studied me speculatively, intrigued and hopeful.

  I looked back across the river.

  Istvan had finished the foundations of his new town and stone walls were rising fast.

  “It’s going to be visible for miles,” I said. “Humans will come.”

  “They’ll be allowed.”

  I rubbed his arms restlessly, fidgeting. “Will there be a translation spell on the town?”

  “I expect not. Istvan will want humans to learn Faeraeish. However, if they seek justice at the hall, he’ll ensure they can understand and be understood. Istvan is legendary for his pursuit of justice. All stand equal before him.”

  We joined the trio on the waterfront to eat apples, smoked venison strips and flatbread leftover from breakfast while watching an imposing building rise as fast as if viewed through time-lapse photography.

  Yana showed me the unfinished bathroom arrangements located to the north side of the stairs. There was a hole in the stone and running water. “Istvan has provided the foundation. It will be up to those who settle here to build on those beginnings.”

  The men kept their backs turned when we used the open air facilities, and we did the same for them.