The Price of Magic

Prologue

Laearl City, Launair. 12 January, 981 AS.

I shuddered as I sat on the cold hard floor, of the Oldtown Orphanage. I looked around at the small group of friends gathered around in a circle. We talked quietly, leaning in to hear each one whisper their ideas. Couldn’t be too careful here, the walls were thin, if we were found out of our beds, we would be done for. I looked over at Iley, a resigned expression etched on her sharp face. Jayna played with her rock medallion, a nervous habit. I wondered why she kept that thing, it was just a plain river rock attached to a green-coppery chain, with just one little blue sparkle in it, barely the size of the smallest finger nail.

Everyone in the circle had a reason to be here, and a sad story of their own. Iley wouldn’t talk about her family, but other kids whispered cruel things. I had heard that her mother had been a prostitute who died of the Mage Plague. Jayna was the result of a one-night tryst between a Highblood Elf and a Lunarian woman. Neither parent felt she belonged in their world, so she was abandoned by both. Tyrel, like me, had been here most of his life. His withered arm the reason no one wanted him. Vayilflower was new. She had only been with us a few months and already she wanted to leave. She had run away from home enough times that she was put in here. Maybe she thought her alcoholic and dust addicted parents weren’t so bad now.

I had been here since I could remember, parents both burned at the stake, as many mages were soon after the plague appeared.

I remembered I was supposed to be listening and leant in closer.

Tyrel, you bring the food we have been collecting. I have a sack for it tucked under my mattress. We can divide it up after we get out and go our separate ways.

I’ll collect the sack from you in the morning. It's not much but should last us a day or two each if we ration it.

Orlaina, anything else you can think of?

I looked at Iley, the plan was simple. We would wait until this time tomorrow night, then when the coast was clear. I would head to the unused sick bay first, keep an eye out for anyone who might tell on us, wait for the others to finish their duties. Then we would escape out the only window we could in this hell hole. We would go our separate ways, except Iley and I would stick together until we both found work. Simple.

I shook my head. With a nervous sigh, we got up and crept back into our beds, the rusted springs screeched in protest at the weight being put on them. I tucked my threadbare sheet around my chin and shivered, waiting to get to sleep.

The next day went as slowly as one could expect when looking forward to something at the end of it. But eventually the sun set and the moon crept up, allowing us to be dismissed from work duties. I sat quietly in the old sickbay once again, surrounded only by five small beds, pushed up against the walls. Moonlight skirted around me, filtering through one small window. My fingers restlessly tapped on the cold wooden floor. My well-worn grey dress, the only source of warmth. Patience was never one of my strong points.

A shadow slinked underneath a crack in the door. My breath caught in my throat, anticipation and dread coursing through me. The shadow kept moving. The heavy creak of floorboards told me it was Matron Flora. Her name did not give a hint to her true nature, a cruel, twisted woman. She delighted in hurting her wards. A wicked smile would crawl across her face each time a child begged her for mercy. They never got it, she had even accidently killed a few.

Moments later, the door slowly opened. A small hand appeared, guiding its owner into the dark room. It was Iley, her long black hair, giving her away before I could see her face. She tiptoed in on steady feet. Her hair was mussed and her nightgown peaked out underneath her clothes, which were far too small. We hardly ever got anything new, Iley was fourteen but had the same clothes since she was 11. She crept in and sat down, rubbing my arm in support. The other children began filing in behind her, each looking anxious because of what we were about to attempt.

Everyone was silent as a mouse until we were all inside. Tyrel came in last, carefully closing the door behind him, wincing at the sound of the door scraping against its frame. We waited and listened, but there was no sign that Matron had heard anything on her patrol. Iley got up again and opened the small window. As the tallest, and oldest of us, she would go out first. If we We had to make it. Tomorrow Iley was supposed to be sent to the silver mines of Warhalm. Destined to work for nothing but one meal a day until she died young of lung infection, or a cave in, like so many others who aged out of the orphanage.

I saw the determination in her pale green eyes as she turned around to lift herself up, and out of the second story window. Her skinny frame easily fit through, but her tunic became stuck on the edge of a nail. I scrambled up to unhook her, and she jumped the rest of the way down, hitting the cobblestones with a thunk. She waved and across the road to wait for me.

There were four more of us to go. A thrill of excitement coursed through me, as I couldn’t help thinking about what Matron’s reaction would be when she wakes up to find five of her wards missing. The other kids will wish they had been nicer to us, maybe then we would have let them escape with us.

Tyrell was next out, then the half-elf Jayna glided out, graceful as ever. Vayilflower was next to go, her hands trembled as she hoisted herself up to the window, the only window in the whole orphanage that hadn’t been nailed shut. Vayil, weak from three days in the attic. She was struggling to pull herself up to the window. I walked over to her, to give her a hand, but before I got there, her foot slid on the smooth windowsill, she lost her grip and crashed to the floor smacking it, loudly. I tensed and held my breath. Matron would have heard that.

Panicking, I lifted her up and helped pushed her body through. I could hear thunderous footsteps racing down the hall. Vayil was out a moment later. I started to climb. The door crashed open, hitting the wall behind it. I moved faster, but felt gnarled hands pull me back down. Shit, I had been caught.

I landed on the ground and cringed at the sight of Matron Flora starting down at me. Her manic expression made me scream internally. But I wouldn’t show fear, even if I was terrified, she didn’t deserve the pleasure.

"Well, well. Orlaina tries to escape again, and fails again." Spittle flew from her grinning lips.

Fuck you, hag, I yelled, it didn’t matter if I cussed at her now. I already knew exactly how severe my punishment would be. She kicked me in the side of my stomach before pulling me up to my feet.

No nine-year-old talks to me like that. I should have drowned you when I got you, brat.

She whacked me across the face; I heard an audible crack from the joints in my neck as it snapped backwards. The worst part was the sting of newly opened scratches along my cheek from her sharp nails.

I was reeling from the hit. Quick as a whip, she spun me around and did the same to my backside. I counted each one, not saying anything apart from an involuntary whimpering, deep in my throat. After 20, she was done, a bead of sweat rolling from her brow, down and off her sharp nose.

She smiled that predatory smile of hers.

I think three weeks in the attic will do the trick this time, two weeks was obviously not enough.

I gasped. Three weeks, I’ll die.

Oh really, well that’s your problem, not mine.

I was suddenly glad the others had escaped. I hoped Iley wouldn’t wait for me, that she would become a pirate like she wanted to be, like in the stories.

I was dragged up the stairs; Matron’s foot almost went through one of the floorboards. The Mage Plague was starting to seep into the orphanage, so, either way, I knew I wouldn’t last long, maybe already had it. Die of starvation in the attic, or die of the plague, the slow moving disease that infected everything in its path, sucking all its life out, leaving nothing but a seeping husk of pus and hard, blackened skin. I was told it started with the body puffing up, growing hives which went away before flesh started to rot the skin.

Before I could blink, we had ascended to the fifth floor, the attic. Matron thrust a glass of stagnant water into my hands, always kept ready by the door for her next victim. She pushed me in, causing me to spill half the glass. Before I could turn around and fight my away out, the door closed and locked behind me. A high and spiteful cackling sounded through the layers of thick wood, separating Matron Flora and myself. My only comfort in this death sentence would be that I would never have to look at that hateful bitch again.

I shuffled around, trying not to land on any of the broken glass that was scattered around the room, save a small circle in the middle. The circle had been swept clear over the years by children naughty enough to warrant a stay here, which was most of us. We dared not sweep the glass aside throughout the whole room. One boy did that when I was about six years old. Matron rubbed his face so hard in all the glass that he was unrecognisable afterwards. He was in agony for almost two weeks after, until he died of infection.

I moved to the glassless circle and sat still waiting for the gravity of my situation to strike. I am going to die in here, slowly and painfully. Whimpering, I lay down on my side and tried to sleep in the cold darkness. If only I still had parents, my life would be so much better.

I woke up with a start hours later. I couldn’t tell what time it was. The darkness swallowed me like a cold blanket, but my eyesight had adjusted to it, just slightly. I wished more than anything I had magic like my parents had. I bet they could have easily gotten out of a place like this.

I turned over, to lie on my back. To amuse myself, I pretended I could cast a spell, it was my favourite game to play in here. Light and warmth would be good right now, I always enjoyed the rare occasions when we had a fire lit in the common room. I could watch the flames for hours. I opened my palms and concentrated. They felt warm for a second, but of course, nothing happened.

Magic tended to run in families, but sometimes it would skip a generation or just stop. I read that it was slowly fading amongst man. That was the only reason I was alive, sitting here about to die anyway. My parents were killed as mages in the height of the plague spread. I was spared, just in case I did not have magic, but sent to the orphanage, no one wants to raise a baby that might need to be burned at the stake. Matron would often threaten to get the Knights Command in and claim I could do magic like my parents. If that ever happened, my punishment would be swift at least. They burned mages on the very same day they are caught.

I leant over to pick up my water. A shard of broken glass cut the fleshy part of the side of my hand as it happened. I winced, trying not to let it overwhelm me. I should be used to the cuts by now, my last stint in the attic was only a month ago. I took a sip of water that would be my ration for the day. Might as well make the rest of it last.

What to do? Already bored out of my wits, again I imagined making a fireball in the palm of my hand. Again nothing really happened, by I smiled to myself, now imagining a lightning beam shoot from my hand to split open the attic roof. I would then fly away like a bird, never to return. I went back to sleep dreaming of my grand, magical escape.

I woke up once more; this time to the sound of thumping from downstairs, the other kids must be in the room below me, getting ready for bed. My lips and mouth felt dry, my saliva like wet cotton, I was hungry, but that I could ignore. I was already used to going one or two days at a time without food. Matron would sell it off sometimes to buy better food and treats for herself. She wasn’t supposed to, but who could we tell that would care? No one cared a jot about us.

My thoughts were a million miles away when, out of nowhere I heard a strange hissing noise above me. I ignored it the first time; the hallucinations must be coming on early this time. But then I heard it again and looked up. I blinked rapidly, not quite believing what I was seeing. A gulp caught in my throat. Above me, hovered a small light, not bright but warm, and yellow; it looked like the sun. It flickered a few times before fizzling out.

Mouth agape, I wasn’t sure if it was real, but it certainly felt real, the warmth from it, had radiated down, even my bare, cut feet seemed warmer. Was it me that did that? How? I wasn’t even trying. Did it really happen?

I imagined it again, this time brighter. I could almost see sparks in the air, snapping and popping right above my head. I knew concentrating wouldn’t make it appear again, that never worked. What did I do to make it appear? I went into a sort of daze as I imagined simply pulling the sun out of the air, like from an invisible pocket. I reached out, pushing my hand through the air, into the fabric of the world, and to my astonishment, I felt something warm, like a hug from someone who had been sitting by the fire. I pulled it until there it was again, floating just above me a fiery ball of sunlight. This time it was bigger and brighter. I could see small rays trying to break off it, it almost looked alive, violent. The few times I had been outside, I had seen the real sun so far away, but so much more real than looking through dirty window panes. The ball of light was exactly how I remembered it.

I could hardly contain myself, I was utterly astonished. So I was a mage after all. I was still barely able to comprehend it, to believe it. But it must be real, I was warm, and I could see everything in the room for the first time in my life, lit up like there were candles everywhere. I marvelled at my own creation, had I really been able to do magic all this time? Me Orlaina, the worthless girl who couldn’t follow simple instructions or do as she was told. Ugly Orlaina who looked so different to everyone else here? I looked around at the room, my insides twisting and turning and my heart fluttering like a bird.

There was nothing but glass spread across the floor, some of it coloured red and brown. The piss pot was by the only door. I already knew the door couldn’t be opened from this side. But then I spotted it. What looked like a small board, not flush to the wall, but high up, at the other end of the room. It couldn’t be, could it? An escape route.

Careful to avoid as much glass as I could, I tiptoed over to it. My small sun, the warm orb of light, followed directly above me. I walked up to the unusual spot on the wall. The thick wooden board was obviously covering something. Nails had been haphazardly hammered around its edges. No wonder Matron kept this room dark, never giving us a candle or lighting any in the hallway near the door. She didn’t want any of us to get through the window that the board was surely covering.

I tried reaching up to the board, but my fingers only just brushed its edge. Why was I still so small? Other nine-year-olds in the orphanage were much taller than I was, but then, most of them were not bought here so young, they had time to be fed decent meals or at least get out in the sun regularly.

I looked at my little ball of sunlight. I imagined it moving over to the wooden board and burning it. To my surprise, it slowly drifted to the board until it interesected with it. I waited, hopeful that the wood would catch fire, but nothing happened. I waited and waited just in case it would suddenly catch. With no luck, I coaxed my ball of magic down towards me, I felt its warmth intensify the closer it got. Reaching up shaking hands touched the ball, and I discovered why it wouldn’t set the wood on fire. It shimmered at my touch, like a ripple in water. It wasn’t really there, just an illusion. But if felt so real and warm, maybe it took more practice to make something that could actually interact with the world, or maybe magic was not as good as people thought.

I knew so little about magic, there was no one to teach me how to use it, what I could do, what my limits were. A small fear grew inside me. I had this ability, but I knew nothing about it. To practise my magic, would be risky unless I was completely alone, sure not to be disturbed. I felt a pang of utter loneliness as I decided I could never tell anyone about it. Too risky, they could turn me in, even I trusted them completely, trust could be broken quickly.

Sighing, but undefeated, I scanned the room, my eyes landing on the one thing that would be helpful. My lips curled in disgust as I thought about it.

Carefully, I dragged the heavy piss pot over to the covered window. Its vile contents, piss and shit which hadn’t been emptied in months, spilt over the sides and onto my hands as I went. I gagged the whole way as the stench wafted up to my nostrils with each movement. An unusually large piece of almost black poo rolled onto my hands and squished in between two of my fingers. Grimacing, I vomited into my closed mouth, I swallowed it back down. I didn’t know how long I would have to wait for my next meal, that is if I could pull this off. But I had to, I didn’t want to die in here, I had to pry the board off the window.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I slumped down and wiped my arms and hands on my dress, panting with effort. The piss pot was against the wall. Using the wall so I wouldn’t fall, I climbed on to the disgusting metal bucket. It held under my weight, but tipped to the sides as I struggled to stabilise myself. I slid the nails of one of my hands in between the wooden board and the windowsill. Then I pulled.

I heard a creak and felt the board give just slightly, I tried harder, as much as my meagre body strength would allow.

It wasn’t much but better than nothing, so I tried again, each time prising it a little bit further from the wall. It didn’t take long for my nails to snap, the nail on my index finger bent backwards, exposing the soft pad underneath, leaving a bloody mess. I stifled a scream as red hot pain raced through the nerve endings in my fingers. That was enough for now. I needed rest.

I lay down again in the middle of the room, cradling my finger. The sharp, acidic smell of old shit and piss clung to me like a fog, but I was already getting used to it, I hoped soon it wouldn’t be noticeable. I dozed for a time, before getting up again, my little sun still there, but not as bright as it had been. Still it was a comfort in this room.

It took at least another day and night to get the board off. I could tell roughly how much time had passed, only by the sound of feet beneath me; the other children, getting in and out of bed. When I did finally rip the cursed off, my whole body let go, suddenly all the tension melting into nothing. I hadn’t realised how much effort it took until I stopped and felt the aches that I had been ignoring. I let out a small, near hysterical giggle.

Peering through the window, I saw dark blue, covering the sky, crowded with so many stars like a dusty blanket. It was night time; there were houses with smoking chimneys, shadows roaming the streets, and candlelight in windows. My heart swelled. I wondered if I would see any of the others again. I bet Iley had gotten the furthest. A small part of me hoped she had waited for me across the street, but then again, that would have been far too dangerous, no doubt Matron Flora had the Knight’s Command searching the streets for the others. I tested the dust caked glass pane; there was no latch. I smashed it open with my fist, hissing as the glass buried itself in my knuckle. Luckily, it hadn’t done as much damage as I had anticipated, blood was not spurting out, but it still stung as sometimes small cuts do.

Reaching up, I grabbed the windowsill with what remained of the strength in my arms. The piss pot tipped over underneath me. I pulled further, then adjusted my hold, reaching one hand over the edge. Then using my legs, and my toes, I scaled the wall, backside out, and knees bent. Sweat gathered on my forehead, I shook it away as I got my torso up and balanced on the ledge.

I almost tipped back inside as I was suddenly greeted with the view of the cobblestones five stories bellow me. A rush of vertigo flew through me as my head and shoulders bobbed outside, making me very aware of just how high up I was. My grip tightened as I looked below me. There was another small window with a ledge, directly below me. I took my head back inside, turned around and went out the window backwards until my hands were the only things holding me up. I gripped the ledge as the rest of me dangled from the side of the building. Carefully, I dropped down to the next window, only just managing to grab hold of the rotting wooden ledge. I only took a second, but it felt like an eternity as my heart started beating even faster than it had been. The window was boarded up from the inside, of course, the other kids would hear the thumping in their rooms, I had to be quick.

I took in a deep breath before releasing my grip and dropping down to the next level, then the next. I was one level from the ground when I heard Matron’s distinctly shrill voice coming from inside.

What was that?

Panicking, I lost my grip, I tried to cling back onto the window, but it was too late. In a split second, I was on the ground. Pain radiated through my back and the wind was knocked out of me, I struggled to take in more air. I shrieked at myself to get up, get up before she comes outside. Slowly I did, gritting my teeth against all the pain. I heard the rustling of keys inside the front door, I had to move faster. My eyes opened wider in panic. Then, before I knew it, my legs were carrying me away from the orphanage, the place that had been my prison since I was nothing more than a toddler.

I sprinted through the narrow streets. Past old, crumbling and sinking houses, each one crammed into the street almost like one long building, squashed together. I had to stop minutes later, panting from never having ran so far in my life. Then my situation started sinking into my mind. I was free, that bitch wouldn’t be able to find me now, she wouldn’t follow me, she would have to wait for morning, to send for others to look.

I stopped to catch my breath. Bending over, I started laughing at the joy of being out of that place; I laughed so hard, my already sensitive sides hurt more. I couldn’t stop, if anyone were to be around, they would think me mad, but I didn’t care, I couldn’t care.

It took a while before I was able to move again. I wondered which direction the others would have gone in, it was impossible to know where I was, I knew no place beyond the orphanage, I hadn’t stepped more than three paces from it’s front door since I could remember. A new panic started to set in. I chose the street that looked the friendliest, although they were all much the same.

I walked on, not knowing what I would do next. As I went, I started to see more and more people. Adults coming out from a tavern. I could tell they were drunk by the way they wobbled around like Matron would sometimes when she decided she was having a rough day. She had her own stash of brandy in her room, one of the older kids found it once, but he did not dare touch it.

Two very tall men were on the other side of the street from me, singing loudly about fair maidens. They hadn’t seen me yet, and the fear tingling my stomach told me I didn’t want them to see me.

A dark alleyway beckoned me, just up ahead. I could see a stained mattress, straw spilling from the fabric hung half out of it. The rest was covered in pitch darkness. Nervously, I walked into it, anything was better than going near those men. I started to hear a strange moan, a young woman apparently shouting for help coming from close to me inside the alleyway. Startled, I walked backwards, hoping the woman and her tall attacker hadn’t noticed me. But then I tripped and fell on top the mattress. The shouting and moaning suddenly stopped.

Surprised, I looked up, but couldn’t see anything. Before I knew it, my ball of sunlight appeared again, a spontaneous defence I was a long way off from mastering, hovering above my head. I could see them clearly now, and they were looking right back at me. It was a young woman, a bit fat with a hard face, and a man, tall and lanky, like he had not yet filled into his own body yet; he barely looked to be in his twentieth year. The man let the woman go as she leaned further against the wall behind her. I gulped as the both turned to me.

Oh, a mage, is it? You ought to be careful little one, don’t want people knowing that. People are thirsting for a good execution around here. The woman smiled, her grin reminded me of the cat we had for a week before Matron strangled it. The girl was probably wondering what the reward would be for turning me in.

The man slowly circled around me, I felt rooted to the spot, unable to move until he was blocking the alley’s entrance.

Girl, what’s happened to you? Who're your parents?

I, I, umm.

I couldn’t talk as he stood me up, warm hands encompassing my skinny arms. He started inspecting me, looking at my cut bloody feet and hands, all the bruises on my legs, almost faded now. No doubt they could smell the remains of the piss pot on me.

I came back to myself after the shock of being caught. I struggled, worming my way out of his grip, the man looked well dressed, but that didn’t mean he was any less desperate for coin than the woman. He held tighter, so I bit his hand, hard, he winced and let go. I took off, almost flying down the other end of the alley. I tried not to put too much thought into it, otherwise it might not work, but as I ran, dodging discarded furniture, I imagined my little sun disappearing, fading into nothing. To my relief it worked.

Swamped in darkness