The First Confessor: The Legend of Magda Searus

Chapter 65

Merritt stepped closer. He swept his hair back. Lightning cast his handsome features in stark light and black shadows.

“Listen, Magda, for the last time, you don’t have to do this. It’s dangerous. There are wizards on the teams who would—”

“Wizards we can’t be sure we can trust,” she reminded him. “Especially not with something this important.”

“I know, but you need to understand that this particular sort of conjuring requires the use of blood in order to power certain elements. Your blood would link you to the event. It ties you directly into the elements involved. Those elements contain not just Additive Magic, but Subtractive. The mixing of those elements is what got a lot of wizards killed while trying to do this very thing.”

He had told her all that before—several times—when they had been crossing through the city as he began having second thoughts about her being a part of finishing the key. She hadn’t let him dissuade her then, and she wasn’t about to let him do so now, but she also hadn’t asked for explanations of some of the things he’d said. She’d figured that what was necessary was necessary, and she would find out what she needed to know when the time came. That time had come.

“You said that before, but I don’t know what it means, actually, to be linked to the event.”

Merritt looked sympathetic. He stepped closer still, gazing down at her as he lifted his fist to show her the ring he wore.

“The Grace represents the interconnection of everything, the world of life and the world of the dead, Additive and Subtractive, as well as the spark of the gift that runs through it all. The Grace does more, though, than simply represent Additive and Subtractive magic, Creation and obliteration, life and death; it connects them into a cohesive whole.

“By using your blood to draw the Grace, you are the one providing those living elements, that cohesive whole, to the completion of the key. What was missing before was the breach formulas that are supposed to guard those new links in the sword while the combination routines allow the elements to coalesce. Those breach formulas are meant to keep the whole thing stable while the Additive and Subtractive parts are fusing. They do that by actually breaching the nature of the Grace long enough for the elements to fuse into the target—in this case the key.

“That’s how the others were killed; there was nothing breaching the Grace until the two sides could combine in a stable fashion. That’s what happens in life, when a wizard with both sides of the gift is born, both sides are fused into him, but we’re trying to do that same thing artificially, and we didn’t have the formula to create the breach that would allow it to take place. Now, with the breach open, the whole process can draw what it needs from you, through the Grace drawn in your blood, as it uses both sides—life and death—that are inherent in your existence.”

Much to her amazement, Magda was actually beginning to understand the principles involved. That wasn’t making it any easier to work up the nerve to do it, but at least she was grasping the true nature of the danger.

“So I would be providing the power of death as well?”

“Yes. We all will die one day, so I think that we also carry latent death within us from the moment we come into existence. Your spark of life is what powers the Grace you draw with your blood. That Grace thus contains both the power of life and the power of death because you do.

“The power of Orden deals with life, death, and the whole nature of existence, so the key also needs to have both sides. It needs both Additive and Subtractive, life and death, to be complete.

“Through the Grace, you would be providing those forces. As I invest those elements in the sword, with the breach open, it will draw strength from your life force.

“But if something goes wrong because the formulas I use have flaws, or I make a mistake in conjuring spell-forms, or if the seventh-level breach doesn’t open and then close properly, you could be caught beyond the veil to the underworld, just like those wizards Baraccus sent to the Temple of the Winds in the underworld. They were caught beyond the veil and never returned.”

Magda twined her fingers together. “I trust you, Merritt. You’ve been working on this for a long time. No one knows more about it than you. If it can be done, you can do it. I could be in no better hands.”

“And what if I’m wrong about some part of it?” He gestured vaguely. “Look, Magda, you don’t need to do this. I can get a wizard from one of the teams to try it first. This kind of thing is their job. They’ve devoted their lives to creating such dangerous things. I’m not so sure that you should—”

“We’ve had this argument already and it’s settled. This is more important than my life and you know it. This is the only life I have and I don’t want to lose it, but there are profoundly important things at stake here this night, things I care deeply about, things I believe in, like not letting harm come to all our people.

“The boxes of Orden are here, in the world of life. Someone stole them. They obviously must want to use those boxes and when they do they will intentionally—or even unintentionally—bring all of our lives to an end. Stopping that from happening is what matters. What good will it do to worry about a possible danger to me tonight, at the cost of all of us tomorrow?

“Who else but you can stop that from happening? Who else but you can complete the key? Who else but me can we trust to help you?

“I have to do this, Merritt. I trust you to take care with my life, but if I lose it in the attempt, then I will have died trying to save all life and I don’t want you to blame yourself. This is worth doing. I’d rather die trying to preserve the value of life than watch it all end because I failed to do what only I can.

“Trust in yourself, Merritt. Do what no other but you can do. Use me for what you need to complete the key.”

He watched her eyes for a long time as lightning flashed and thunder boomed.

“You’re something else, Magda Searus.” He slowly shook his head. “You really are.”

She realized that she was glad he was having a difficult time putting her life at risk. She wouldn’t want him to be indifferent.

Merritt finally held out a hand, palm up. “Give me your arm.”

Magda held her arm out for him. Merritt closed a big hand around her wrist and held it in a firm grip.

“Be still, now,” he said. “I don’t want you to jerk or I might cut too deep.”

Magda took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to steady her racing heart. It wasn’t the blade she feared as much as the unknown of the ordeal that was to follow. She glanced around, briefly wondering if she would ever see the world of life again. She met Merritt’s gaze.

“I’m ready. Do it.”

Without preamble he drew the blade across the inside of her forearm, close to her wrist. She felt the razor-sharp edge bite into her flesh as he dragged it across her arm, carefully controlling how deeply he cut. It sent a shock of pain through her. Blood immediately began gushing down her arm. He had cut deeper than she had expected. She felt faint. She fought the feeling. She knew that she had to remain conscious.

Magda watched the blood flood down her arm, her wrist, down over her palm, to finally engulf and run off her fingers. She was shocked to see how much blood there was.

“Hurry, now,” Merritt said, “before you lose too much blood.”

Feeling like she was watching herself in a dream, Magda took a couple of steps away to begin drawing the outer circle, the one representing the beginning of the world of the dead.

“No,” Merritt said, holding her shoulders as he guided her back, “I need you to start in the center. You need to draw the star first.”

She looked up at the shadow of his face. “But I thought—”

“I know what you thought and ordinarily you would be right, but it can’t be drawn the way you were taught. This is for something entirely different than the Grace is usually used for. We’re altering the elements involved.” He nodded his encouragement. “Draw the star first.”

Magda had been taught that a Grace was always started with the outer circle, then moved inward through the square to the inner circle to the central eight-pointed star, and then finally the rays of the gift were drawn from the star to cross that inner circle, the square, and finally across the outer circle out into the underworld. She had always been told that the Grace was never to be drawn in any other way, not even casually. The Grace was a serious device that carried great importance as well as powerful magic if done by the right people, and especially if done by them in blood.

Worried about the implications, Magda nonetheless did as Merritt asked, letting the blood drip in a steady line across the sandy ground he had smoothed out. She was careful to go slow enough that the lines of blood were unbroken.

“Good,” he said. “Now draw the beginning of the world of life around it, touching the points of the star.”

Lightning flashing all around, thunder booming, Magda followed his instructions. Wind whipped her hair across her face and she had to pull it back to see what she was doing. What the lightning didn’t light for her, the lantern did. After the circle was completed, he had her draw the square, and then the outer circle, where ordinarily a Grace was begun.

“Now,” he said, “draw the rays. But you need to begin them out beyond the outer circle, in the world of the dead, pulling the lines inward through the whole thing until they touch the points of the star, until they touch creation.”

Magda stared at him. “Merritt, are you sure? I’ve never heard of a Grace being drawn that way. I’ve never heard of anyone daring to draw the rays inward from death toward the Light of Creation. It seems a sacrilege.”

He was nodding. “I know. But that’s what I need you to do. We’re mixing elements, remember? This is what the rift calculations are for. This is why I need the seventh-level breach formulas. Hurry, before you lose too much blood.”

By the time she was finished, she was feeling decidedly light-headed. She tingled all over, except for her fingers. They had gone numb.

Magda realized that the dim world all around her seemed to be tilting at an odd angle. Merritt caught her in his arms before she hit the ground.

He set her down, leaning her against a log off to the side. He placed a hand over the cut. “You did good, Magda.”

She felt the heavy warmth of magic flowing into her arm.

“This will stop the bleeding so that it can start to heal,” he told her. She could hardly hear his voice. “While I’m working, I want you to sit right here and rest. Be strong for me, now. I need you to be strong for the next part.”

Magda nodded, but he was already rushing back to the Grace drawn in blood.

Her blood.