Angelique yanked on a sword that one of the warriors had stabbed into the ground, then let a spark of her core magic jump to it.
Her core magic flashed across the yard, crowding her mind with the presence of every blade, splinter, arrow, and weapon.
Angelique reached for Gregori’s quiver of crossbow bolts, and then the construct backhanded her.
Unprepared as she was, she collided against the cottage wall with enough force that she bounced off and collapsed on the ground, wheezing as she tried desperately to breathe again.
“Snow White!” the shout was muffled, but Angelique could hear the worry.
She blinked and tried to clear her fuzzy eyesight or twitch her fingers, but pain radiated from her head.
Healing spell. I need to use a healing spell.
Angelique couldn’t do more than twitch at her magic. Her core magic came easily of course, but it took a great deal of focus to form it into a healing spell. By the time she finished, she could breathe again, but her ears were ringing.
The soothing ebb of the spell immediately washed away the worst of the pain. Angelique shook her head, and when she could finally see straight, her blood curdled.
The construct was clutching Snow White—who was kicking at it and trying to stab it with one of the starfires Angelique had given her. It wrapped a claw around her neck as it grasped at her chest and head, intending to snap her neck.
Angelique lurched to her feet, when someone whistled.
The construct looked up at the roof of the cottage, where Fritz stood with a nocked bow.
The forester loosened his arrow and struck the construct in its gaping mouth.
Fritz loosed two more arrows—hitting the construct’s mouth each time—before the creature’s limbs slackened.
Snow White fell from its grasp just before it collapsed. The construct went down with a roar that made goosebumps pebble Angelique’s skin. It sounded like crackling wood in a forsaken forest mixed with the angry howl of a winter wind. Then—just as the first had—the construct’s branch-like body lost its shape and liquified before evaporating, leaving Fritz’s arrows behind.
The warriors groaned and started to pick themselves off the ground. Fritz launched himself off the roof and landed next to Snow White, exchanging a few quiet words with her.
Angelique, however, widened her stance so she was more stable and tilted her head, sending out her magical senses.
Nothing. Not even the muted feel those constructs gave off.
She finally relaxed as Fritz gently pulled Snow White to her feet.
“Does it hurt to breathe?” he asked.
“No. I think I’ll be bruised but nothing too bad.” Snow White didn’t even brush off the dead grass that clung to her cloak before she turned to the other warriors. “I’m not sure about everyone else, though.”
Ahh, yes. This will call for more puppet time with herbs.
“No bleeding wounds around here, right?” Angelique plucked herbs off her satchel—which would soon be bald of greenery at this rate—and started cataloguing what healing spells she could use on the abused bunch.
“I’m fine—” Oswald started to say, then broke off into a muffled oath when Gregori prodded his back.
“Rupert and Oswald are the most injured, I think—Aldelbert, too,” Gregori said.
Angelique waddled her way over to the normally quarrelsome pair. Since Oswald was at least well enough to talk, she squatted down next to Rupert first to check on him. “Rupert, how many herbs am I holding up?”
Rupert exhaled a groan that worried her.
She slipped a hand under his back so it was sandwiched between his muscle and the dirt, and let a healing spell gather at her fingertips before nudging it into the warrior.
Hopefully that will be enough to stop any major damage.
Behind her, Marzell approached Fritz and Snow White. “Great job, Fritz. Are you hurt, Your Highness?”
Angelique glanced back fast enough to see Snow White shake her head before she crab-walked over to Oswald, intending to also premeditatively slap a healing spell on him, too.
“That’s good news,” Marzell said. “We’ll have to talk about this, but for now, let’s see what we can do for Rupert and Oswald.”
“And for you and Aldelbert,” Snow White said.
“As you say.” Marzell limped his way over to Angelique, a hitch in his step.
That last construct really did a number on us. How am I going to keep everyone thinking I’m using herb magic on them? Is it even worth it to keep my disguise?
Marzell groaned as he crouched down next to Oswald, a stormy look on his face.
“You fought well,” Angelique told him. “All of you did. And Snow White is safe.”
“She is,” Marzell agreed. “But it is obvious this black mage is more powerful than estimated.” His gaze went soft as he stared out at the woods. “We may need to call for help—perhaps from the Veneno Conclave. Between the seven of us, I’m sure we have contacts there.”
Angelique immediately clammed up. Oh, no. No, I’m not revealing my disguise. I do not want the Conclave knowing I’m here, poking around. They’ll ruin everything!
She cleared her throat and was glad she’d shoved her fingers into Oswald’s thick, bushy hair, as it hid the way her fingers glowed silver from the low-level healing spell she was spinning. “Help Oswald stand, will you? It will be better to treat everyone inside—where there are more herbs.”
Marzell’s smile was faint. “More healing through cooking herbs?”
“It works, doesn’t it? Who cares if you end up smelling like garlic or dill and…”
“Rosemary?”
“Yes!”
Marzell laughed. “As you order, herb wizard, we shall do.”
Angelique laughed, though it felt hollow.
We survived this attack, and I can say for certain the mage who has Evariste also controls Faina…but that power. It was so terrible! How can we ever defeat them?
The second time the mirror created constructs, Evariste was far more aware of its activities, given that Angelique’s tiny flicker of magic was still pulsing within him, shielding him from a hefty bit of the pain inflicted by the mirror.
The decrease of pain had done wonders for him. He no longer felt as if he was going to lose his entire being to the mirror, and he was more like himself with every passing moment as he bent his mind to the puzzle that was Angelique’s surviving magic.
I don’t recall ever reading a case in which another mage’s magic was able to stay with a different mage, and I’ve read a great deal of old, magical theory books considering Clovicus used to punish me by making me read them.
Evariste smirked as he recalled Clovicus’ aggravation once Evariste learned to enjoy theory books. They had interested him, mostly because it was something he couldn’t immediately master as he had almost all other forms of magic, and because his own core magic was on the outskirts of what mages understood about magic.
But even the books I read as an adult always stated that outside of doing spells that require more than one caster, or from harvesting raw magic to use for yourself—as I’ve learned firsthand—it shouldn’t be possible for mages to share powers.
The mirror’s horrible magic churned around Evariste as it twisted into a spell.