Magic of Talisman and Blood (Curse of the Ctyri Book 2) Read online

  Good. Now, imagine the door.

  Vasi’s head swam, and her empty stomach churned like it was trying to eat itself. A mother’s blessing indeed. But there was nothing else, so she did as the doll suggested.

  Vasi imagined the short green door, just tall enough that she wouldn’t have to duck through it but no taller. It wasn’t detailed or as prettily rendered as many of the other doors. The color of paint was several shades darker than spring grass with just the tiniest smidge of blue, and the smooth coat still retained just a little of its glossy sheen. The circular metal door knob was rough; the texture caught on her dress and snagged.

  Now, open the door.

  “I can’t open the door; it’s not real,” Vasi said through her teeth.

  It is real, just like the kurz mites. See the door in your mind and step through it. You make it real in your mind.

  Vasi wanted to believe in magic; she really did. But to think she could make the door appear just by wanting . . . However, it was no more ridiculous than Dom stoking the fire or Sef giving her breakfast or Baba Yaga flying in a mortar.

  Vasi closed her eyes and focused on the door, creating every detail in her mind. It’s there. It’s there. It’s there. She continued the mantra as she reached forward toward the handle. She imagined the coarse metal under her fingers. She felt its coolness as she wrapped her hand around the knob and turned. The knob stuck a moment and then rotated under her palm.

  Now, push it open.

  Holding her breath, Vasi stepped forward and opened her eyes. The green door glided open as if someone had recently slathered its hinges in grease. The dark hallway was narrow, and the light radiating up from the stairway beckoned. Vasi stood at the open door, waiting for the world to make sense.

  It didn’t.

  It didn’t make any sense at all.

  She stepped out slowly, some part of her wondering if she was dreaming, or perhaps the world had turned upside down.

  “I did it,” Vasi said as she stared through the open doorway to the dark space beyond. “I actually did it! I did magic.”

  The smell of cinnamon wafted in the air, and her stomach growled in want, but Vasi ignored it. Her glee and fatigue mixed into mania, and she danced in circles. “I’m a witch!”

  No one responded, and the room swam around her.

  Better go eat before you injure yourself.

  Vasi followed the smell down to the breakfast table. She found the same breakfast spread waiting for her, just like every other day. She waited to see something different, but nothing had changed, nothing at all. Cautiously, Vasi took her seat. A glass of water appeared hovering in the air, and Vasi accepted the drink and guzzled it down. As soon as her thirst was quenched, she picked up a roll and stuffed it into her mouth. By the time she was finished with the first roll, several more plates of food lay before her.

  Knowing that Sef or Dom was here, Vasi closed her eyes and tried to picture them. She opened her eyes and willed the witch’s servants to appear.

  They didn’t.

  “Sef thinks you’re mad at him. Dom, too.”

  Vasi turned to the witch slouching in the doorway.

  Vasi swallowed and said, “I don’t blame either of them; I blame you. You’re a terrible teacher.”

  “Yes.” Baba Yaga bared her metal teeth. “I hope you got some sleep last night. I’ll expect you in the workshop today.”

  “I did magic. I—I got out. Doesn’t that mean you’ll give me the fire now?”

  “Ha. You didn’t do magic. You just reached through an illusion and opened the door,” the witch said. “Three days from now, you’ll face your first real task. You’re as ready as you’ll ever be. But this time if you fail, you’ll never get the Fire.” Baba Yaga’s eyes burned hot before she turned and clunked out of the kitchen.

  Vasi fell back into her chair, but her appetite was gone. Her life was no longer at stake, or rather, not just her life. If she failed, all of Beloch would suffer, including her father.

  21

  Adaline

  Evzan raised his brows at Adaline, wearing a look of expectation she was becoming all too familiar with. The two of them sat upon their steeds at the front of her army. Sir Tredak waited, mounted on his horse on her other side. The armored generals clanked and clattered in their chain mail, flanking the mounted party. Behind them, the troops waited, their expectancy of violence palpable in the morning air. The siege had done little over the last few days, but the retaliation from behind the fortress walls demanded they become more aggressive.

  Adaline rolled her shoulders, wanting nothing more than to shed the chain mail shirt Evzan insisted she wear. The additional burden chafed over her sweat-soaked tunic, and the iron links made the oppressive day only feel more so.

  In contrast, Evzan and Sir Tredak wore no armor as if their sheer bullheadedness would magically deflect arrows.

  “You either need to call the order, or have one of your generals announce the advance,” Evzan said with a frown. “Your troops are restless, and there’s nothing left to wait for. The prisoners we captured revealed that Orikrod has enough provisions to outlast us in a siege. The longer we delay, the more time we give them to strategize, train, and build weapons while our provisions dwindle.”

  He spoke the truth, and the weight of her responsibility sat heavy on her shoulders. Even knowing the consequences of inaction, in the last forty-eight hours, war took on a whole new meaning. It wasn’t that she didn't trust her generals. She knew Gunhild would do all within her power to enforce the new regulations, and Adaline anticipated the men would comply out of fear. But once Adaline gave the order to advance, it could not be retracted. People would die and possibly worse.

  Adaline took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Thinking of her sister and parents, she exhaled. She could picture their faces with perfect clarity, their dark hair and laughing eyes. But more than that, she remembered how vivacious and full of life they were. As quickly as their images came, their faces morphed into the pale, waxy, dead features and spiritless broken bodies. The pain her sister and mother had experienced at the hands of the ruler of Beloch did not happen in one night. Their torture and pain had lasted days, possibly weeks, before death mercifully released them. And while it was not fair to expect the people of Beloch to pay for the crimes of their tsar, Adaline and her army could ill afford to let the people impede their progress.

  “Cervene,” Adaline shouted. “Punish them until they sue for peace.”

  She looked down the line, meeting the eyes of her generals. As one, they raised their voices and bellowed, “Charge!”

  The men surged past. Despite the guilt nagging at her heart, there was a sense of triumph as the men, her army, advanced on the fiefdom. Sparks flew down as catapults launched burning pitch over the walls. Dozens of foot soldiers dressed in head-to-toe armor charged forward as a unit with a roughly hewn battering ram between them. Archers shot arrows through murder holes, but the tips only sparked and deflected off their steel. Thirty men pushed down the massive cart with a trunk at its center; they moved as one into the mechanism, pulling back the thick trunk and pounding it against the gate, the booming sound reverberating through the valley.

  As the day wore on, Adaline’s anticipation slowly fizzled into frustration. The army wasn’t fighting yet, so her mind had gone round and round Tredak’s questions, and Adaline didn’t like the answers she found. Both of the assassins had shards of a mirror. Both had magic rings. And both were from her own country. There could be others in Cervene who wanted Adaline dead, but the signs pointed directly at one. Adaline’s skin, like her mind, chafed, and her legs cramped from inaction. She dismounted to give her horse a rest and legs a stretch, and the men around her followed suit.

  “I know you hope for this to be over by nightfall, Princess,” Evzan said, standing next to her. Beside him, Warbringer pawed the ground and huffed at his master, likely disappointed in being left out of the battle.

  Unfortunately, the only
fight was against the gate, and neither Adaline or Warbringer could help with the battering ram.

  Evzan nudged the beautiful stallion’s nose away. “However, even as aggressive as you’re being with your show of force, it could take days before we break through the walls.”

  “Perhaps it would be best for you and Sir Evzan to return to Burdad to avoid further . . . consequences,” Tredak said, echoing Evzan’s caution.

  Consequences. Adaline shook her head, knowing that by consequences, Tredak was alluding to the two assassination attempts. But what if the person responsible for the assassination attempts was in Burdad? She would need to have a talk with Evzan about this and soon. But not right now. She turned away from her guard and Sir Tredak’s caution and went back to her tent. The knights could be right, and in all likelihood, they were. But being right was not the same as doing right.

  Ever since arriving at this fiefdom, Adaline’s life had been nothing but chaos. But for the first time in her life, she awoke each morning with purpose.

  The shouting and protest of men outside her tent yanked her from her thoughts. Adaline pushed aside the leather flap to see a young commoner soldier skid to a halt before Evzan. Sweat rained down from the young warrior’s sandy hair and onto the dirty rags he wore for a uniform.

  A knight in full armor clanked and clattered behind the dirty soldier, yelling, “This man is a deserter! He’s deserted his post!”

  “I’m not a deserter! The generals don’t believe me, sir. But . . . the princess—she needs to know. She’s the one who broke down the Phoenix Fire,” he said. Wiping his hair back from his face with a trembling hand, he added, “She can do magic.”

  The knight hefted his broadsword up as if he were going to strike the commoner. “He’s a liar and deserter—”

  “I’ll hear him out, Sir Knight. Lower your weapon,” Adaline said as she raised a hand and stepped outside her tent. “First, tell me how you know it was me who broke down the Fire, and then tell me what you saw.”

  The young soldier exclaimed, “I was stationed near the foot of the hill back in Cervene. I know you was the one who did the magic, Princess. I saw the whole thing. And at the gates here, it’s magic again, Your Highness. The Celestial Sisters saw it shimmer just like the wall of Phoenix Fire after you tore it down. This castle’s got magic holding up the gates.”

  The young man met her gaze, and silent understanding passed between them.

  “How could they have magic here?” Adaline asked, looking back and forth between the messenger and Evzan.

  “There are magical objects all over this realm. You can buy them at any market fair if you have enough coin. Haven’t you been to the fair?”

  Adaline shook her head but not in disbelief. She’d been to the fair plenty, and she’d gotten magical items when she was a kid. She stopped looking for them when she realized they didn’t work for her, but she knew they existed. A magic gate. Which meant she was going to have to nullify it.

  Before she could say anything, Evzan whirled on her, stalking forward like a panther. “Don't even think about leaving me behind,” he growled. “Where you go, I go.”

  Adaline nodded in acknowledgement. But she wasn't only willing to have Evzan accompany her . . . She wanted him to.

  “What is your name, soldier?” Adaline asked the young man.

  “Smythe, your highness,” he said, his voice trembling. He bowed low and begged, “Please don’t execute me.”

  “Desertion is a serious accusation,” she said loudly enough for the knight to hear. “We will investigate your claim. If it is true, your perceptiveness and persistence deserves no punishment.” When the commoner met her gaze, she added, “But if not, there must be consequences for dealing falsely. An army only works if soldiers follow the chain of command. Even so, there is a time for heroics. I will remember your name, and you will be rewarded, for good or bad.” She raised her gaze to the knight and said, “In the future, I expect such messages to be delivered directly. Please inform the generals.”

  The shimmer of magic coated the gate, the iridescence visible within forty feet. The commoner had spoken truth, and Adaline pulled the generals together to advise them of her plan. While they all agreed, she didn’t miss the looks of anxiety the men shared. Only Gunhild expressed enthusiasm for the proposition.

  “Men are afraid of the night. The walls between the Lumea thin in the witching hours, and djinn wreak chaos. Even if they say they do not believe in these things, they can feel it,” she said. “We’ll use their fear against them.”

  The Malas would lead the charge, and with their tattooed masks, they looked very much the part of evil djinn. So they waited for nightfall, hoping the darkness would allow adequate cover for Adaline’s plan.

  The generals left, and Evzan grabbed Adaline’s arm, tugging her down to crouch near him. Her guard rolled up a corner of a rug and poured water from his waterskin into the dirt underneath. He mixed the fine dust into a sticky paste.

  “Tuck your hair up under your cap,” he said as he likewise tucked his braid. Then he smeared the dark mud over his face, neck, and hands. When he was done, he waved her forward.

  His touch was soft and gentle as he painted her skin. He brushed his fingers up her neck, over her jawbone, and across her cheeks in swift, deft strokes, covering her entire face with the mud.

  Adaline grimaced at the cold, sticky paste.

  Pinching her earlobe, his gaze dropped to her lips.

  “You’re not going to do mine, Evzan?” Tredak asked with a smirk as he entered the tent. Stooping over the muddy concoction, Sir Tredak rubbed the paste over himself as if he did the task every morning.

  Evzan closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head with a snort of disgust. “Clearly you don’t need my help or our permission to enter.” He sighed and stepped away. “Princess, do your hands,” he instructed while he demonstrated the movement. “If we’re lucky, it’ll hold until we get back down to the bottom of the gate.”

  Adaline stared at her guard, surprised with his cunning and yet not surprised at all.

  Tredak stood, brushing off excess mud on his trousers. “Who’s ready?”

  Adaline, Evzan, and Tredak crept down to the high metal gate. The incessant pounding of the battering ram echoed through the valley, and the men had been given the order to continue to charge as though the plans were the same. But a fresh wave of soldiers poured into the valley under the blanket of night, awaiting the moment when the gate burst.

  Pressing her back against the cold stones of the castle’s outer wall, Adaline inched her way forward. Energy hummed, growing louder as they approached. Her palms slicked with sweat, mixing with the mud already there. She subconsciously scratched as she anticipated the pain that accompanied her magic.

  Tredak tapped Adaline on the shoulder, and when she looked back, he winked. “Do you want me to hold your hand, Princess?”

  Evzan grumbled on her other side, and Adaline wanted to smack them both. She knew Tredak wasn’t flirting with her for any other reason than to needle Evzan. She’d spent time thinking over what Tredak had told her and decided it didn’t matter. Whatever he was, he’d been true to her since they’d met. She would just keep an eye on him.

  “Stop harassing him, Tredak,” she whispered sharply. Her mud mask tightened as it dried, and it cracked as she spoke. “And stop growling, Evzan.”

  She tuned the two men out as they approached the edge of the gate.

  The gray stone walls Adaline used for cover extended at least fifty feet in the air, arching over a portcullis. The gate was made of black metal bars that crisscrossed in a pattern of diamonds. This close to the fortifications, the magic sheen was visible. Small fissures erupted immediately after the huge trunk smashed into the gate, and seconds later, an iridescent ripple erased the cracks, making the gate whole again.

  “Signal the men to hold,” she whispered to Evzan, who then whistled long and low.

  Adaline put her hand on the gate, but when
she closed her fist over one of the metal bars, the bar disintegrated under her touch. She waited for the pain, but several seconds passed without any of the agony she’d experienced at the Phoenix Fire. She pulled her hand back and watched in amazement as the bar solidified.

  “It’s magic. Forged from Temavian ore,” Tredak said. “You’ll need to find the piece that holds it together and destroy its magic, then the portcullis will just be a big gate.”

  Adaline glanced at the knight out of the corner of her eye. “And how do we find that one piece?”

  Tredak shook his head as he surveyed the structure. “No idea. But if it was me, I’d put it in one of the highest corners.” He met her gaze. “Just to make sure it was difficult.”

  “How big will it be?” she asked, trying not to think about what he was really saying. She was going to have to find a single piece of magic ore in the massive gate.

  “It’s weak magic so probably no more than a few inches of metal.”

  It was a few inches of metal in one of the highest corners of a fifty foot structure.

  “How will I know it’s different?”

  Tredak huffed next to her. “When you see it, you’ll know. It’s djinn magic, so it looks different, and it’ll definitely feel different for you.”

  Adaline looked at Evzan, and the butterflies in her stomach swarmed. Adaline had never been afraid of heights, but she’d never scaled a forty foot gate during a war either. “Will you come with me?”

  He leveled her with his gaze. “Did you think for a second I would let you go up there on your own?”

  Fear heightened her emotions, and she swallowed back the lump forming at the back of her throat. She blinked away tears before they could form, grateful in this moment for Evzan’s constancy. She pursed her lips and nodded her gratitude to Tredak for the information.

  Evzan stopped them less than a dozen paces away and brought his lips to her ears. “Tredak said your power will nullify the magic as we climb. If you grab a rung that’s already destroyed by the battering ram, it’ll disintegrate in your hands. I’ll hoist you up past where the ram has weakened the metal, but be careful.”