I couldn’t. Foreign magick stopped me. Wards.
As Kade had warned, another force lay between me and the power I sought. A webwork of ancient wards encircled the tower. These spells allowed me to reach out with ease, but blocked any magick from entering back inside. Without power in my body, I couldn’t cast.
I probed the net of blocking spells about me. It wasn’t wise to break spells without understanding how they worked. My consciousness spun along the threads of the webwork, checking how each functioned. These wards had been cast by a senior-level mage, but they were far too old to stop someone like me. Like any long-standing spell, wards needed to be refreshed with energy from time to time. No one had been keeping these strong.
Good for me.
Keeping the magick firm in my mind, I sent my power tearing back through the wards around the tower. I then pulled fresh magick back into me. Energy careened through my limbs until every corner of my body felt charged. Using my Necromancer training, I sent that energy toward my hands. New magick prickled along my skin like the brush of a thousand needles. Soon, the bones in my hands and forearms glowed with blue light.
The time had come to cast my spell. There were various kinds of finders that I could choose from. One of the most powerful was a Blue Oracle, a floating skull covered in sapphires that would answer any questions. Blue Oracles could not only help pinpoint where someone was hiding, but they would also share all the key facts about to approach them. I opened my mouth, ready to speak the words to the spell.
No sound came from lips.
The words to the spell simply didn’t appear in my mind.
I racked my memory. There was no way I could forget this particular spell. My Mother Superior, Petra, had drilled me on it for months. In fact, Petra kept me awake for six consecutive days until I got the wording, tone, and intention just right. By the time my training on this spell was over, I was reciting it in my sleep, much to the sadness of the other elderly sisters who shared my same dormitory room.
How could I forget those words?
I shook my head. No matter. Today had certainly been a trying one. My true mate had just stared at me like I was a total stranger. That would enough to make anyone forget a few things. Besides, there were other finder spells I could cast. For example, the spell for Rune Bones would be just as helpful. In this casting, the bones wouldn’t actually speak like the Blue Oracle, but they would spell out words. I’d get the information I needed. It would simply take a bit longer. Nothing to worry about. I took in a deep breath, ready to say that incantation.
Again, I couldn’t remember a word.
My heartbeat sped. This couldn’t be right. Surely, I could remember a single finder spell. I listed out every finder spell in the Necromancer lexicon.
Mystic Cloud.
Orb Of Insight.
Stylus Of The Seer.
In each case, I knew the spell and how it worked, but I couldn’t recall a single word of the incantations that actually made them come to pass. Panic tightened every muscle in my torso.
Stay calm, Elea. Perhaps it was just the finder spells that were giving me trouble for some reason. I then focused on basic spells any Novice could master.
Fireball.
Bone Shield.
Detect Mage.
Again, I knew what the spells were. I could remember learning them. Still, I couldn’t recall a single word of the incantations that made them function. I stared at my hands, which still glowed with blue power. Pulling in magick and directing it inside my body was something that took me years to master. How could I operate as a Grand Mistress Necromancer in some ways but not in others? The answer appeared to me in a flash.
Mlinzi and Walinzi.
The trickster gods had said they would take two memories. Jicho confirmed that the first was removing knowledge of my identity from anyone in the Caster community. Was the second any memory of how to actually cast a spell?
It had to be. There was no other explanation for me losing so many incantations at once. This wasn’t magick that I’d ever heard of, either from a Necromancer or a Caster. It had to be something unique created by the trickster gods.
Bands of despair tightened around my chest. Mlinzi and Walinzi left me with the power to sense magick, but took away my ability actually do something useful with it.
Tricksters, indeed.
With a sigh, I released the magick from my body. Power rolled out from my fingertips in a cascade of blue sparks. The tiny lights faded as they reentered the environment. Within seconds, the skin on my arms and hands looked normal once again.
I shook my head. I may appear normal, but I felt anything but.
Thanks to Mlinzi and Walinzi, I wasn’t a regular mortal anymore, but I wasn’t a mage, either. My powers were trapped someplace in between. It all seemed so useless and cruel. Perhaps the trickster gods had lied about wanting to assist me. After all, I only had their word that they felt the Sire and Lady threatened their world.
A knock sounded at the door. “May I enter?” My breath caught as I recognized the voice. Rowan.
An odd mixture of excitement, terror, and desire moved through me. “Come in.”
Rowan pushed open the door and stepped inside. I scanned his face carefully, desperate for any sign that he recognized me as his mate. There was none. I’d learned to gauge Rowan’s expressions, and the look he wore now? It said that I was nothing but an interloper and threat.
Rowan leaned against the closed door. For some reason, he’d changed out of his long cape and leather kilt. My brows lifted in surprise. Rowan always liked to face foreigners in his formal garb. But for some reason, he had changed into his typical Caster leathers, which consisted of brown pants, heavy boots, and a fitted jacket. Weapons were strapped all over his body.
Rowan stepped slowly around the space, stomping on the floorboards a few times. They creaked and swayed. This was classic Rowan. He was sizing up how well this place could hold me if I decided to physically tear the room apart. Based on how the wood crackled under his weight, the answer was obvious. This tower had not been kept well. Plus, based on how the floorboards shifted under Rowan’s prodding, the place was probably originally built to store goods, not keep prisoners. No doubt, I could easily find a way out if I stayed here too long.
The thought made me pause. I remembered Rowan’s words earlier.
“One misstep and our deal will become forfeit.”
Was Rowan trying to set me up to betray him? Trying to escape would certainly count as a misstep. And placing me in a storage chamber instead of a prison tower was essentially inviting one.
Rowan paused at the open window-hole, inspecting the dark grounds below. “Too many guards,” he murmured. “And too close to the wall.”
“You want the guards farther away.”
Rowan rounded on me. “Don’t you?”