Chapter 9

Nine

Workingmagic apparently took it out of me because I slept like a rock that night. Well, it might have been the overabundance of stimuli, really. I’d learned and processed a lot my first real day on this world. Anyway, I slept hard and well, waking and feeling like I had enough energy to tackle the world.

I kid. I at least wasn’t whining for coffee. Let’s take the win.

Anyway, I got dressed, shaved—by that I mean applied this magic gel-like substance that wiped stubble right off my skin, great stuff—and ran a comb through my hair, and called it good. Breakfast was laid out, and while good, it was a bit small on portions. I didn’t complain because I knew precisely why. It was later in the day than when I knew Theon got started, so I unfortunately ate alone. Bummer.

When I finished, one of the staff told me where Ara was, so out I went to the backyard. She had a whole thing set up back there. A line of what looked like outdoor pizza ovens sat in front of us, a fire going in one of them. A small table had been set to the side with a teapot, cups, and a bucket of water next to it.

I’d read in history books that most castles and manor houses had outdoor kitchens to cut down on the heat in the summer, but also to prevent an unexpected fire from impacting the rest of the house. Looked like that was true, as these outdoor ovens told their own story.

“Good morning.” Ara’s eyes roved over me. “You look well rested.”

“Slept like the dead.” I flashed her a quick smile. “You must have gotten up early to set this all up.”

“Eh, not as much. Some of the servants helped get everything ready for me. After yesterday’s experience, I figured this area was the best place to practice. Nothing can catch fire here.”

True—everything was stone. Even the ground was covered in pavers that had seen better days. I was thankful for the foresight, as I was relatively sure something would combust at some point today. Learning curve was steep on this one.

“Today”—Ara gave me this arch glance, as if already amused—“you must sing.”

A wordless complaint left my mouth before I could cage it.

“Sorry, not an option.” Ara did look somewhat sympathetic, but mostly amused. “Here’s the thing. In your case, it’s not so much spells you have to memorize, but directions that you need to give. Also, the volume at which you sing controls how much power you’re giving it.”

My protests stopped midthought. “The volume and power controls are linked?”

Ara had to think about that for a second. “If I understand what you just said, yes. One dictates the other.”

Huh. I mean, it was kind of smart, really. What better way to control how much power you were putting in? “Okay, but hypothetical. What if I’m in a dangerous area and being loud will give our location away?”

“And that’s why you have knights dedicated to your safety, so they can protect you while you work.”

“That makes sense.” Also worrisome. I was apparently a VIP now. That’d take some getting used to.

“Right now, we’re going to work on volume and power. Once I feel like you have a good grasp on that, we’ll go closer to the Wall and I’ll have you work on your actual spells there. It’s really the only way to learn, as miasma is the easiest thing to practice on.”

That meant I’d be more in earshot of people, right? I winced. “Ara, I’m really not a good singer.”

She eyed me for a moment before stating bluntly, “You can sound like a foghorn and we won’t care. It’s the results that matter.”

“You know, that was actually very reassuring.”

“I do try. Now, like we did yesterday, focus on the oven and try to move the flame. Make it dance or flicker.”

I felt better about this practice because I knew somewhat of what to do. I obeyed, focusing on the flame, and this time I didn’t put as much oomph into it. I stared at the flame and willed my power to do a little something.

That seemed to work, as the flame went from embers to something higher, more like a campfire.

“Very good!” Ara smacked a hand against my back in a friendly gesture. “You pick things up quickly. Excellent. Now, let’s add voice to this. You can sing anything, just tell the flame to move. Increase, dance, anything.”

I stared at this woman and felt the bottom of my stomach drop out. What, I’m supposed to compose lyrics and melody at the drop of a hat? Why?! I have done nothing to deserve this torture! “Can I use a song someone else wrote and adapt the lyrics?”

“Sure. No one cares.”

Thank fuck. Because I cared. All right, me, come up with a song.

Oddly enough, “Tribute” by Tenacious D leapt to mind, and since it was half spoken, I figured that was to my benefit. Okay, let’s do this thing.

I looked at the flame and sang ever so softly, “Hey, flame, you in the oven, quiet down to embers.”

No, it did not rhyme. YOU try rhyming and setting it to a melody, all without prep.

Ara clapped. “Perfect! See, that’s not hard, right?”

I hoped the look I gave her adequately expressed how much I did not agree with that statement. I was so, so coming up with possible song lyrics and melodies to use later tonight. See if I didn’t. I’d have a damn notebook full of them to prevent this day from repeating itself.

She laughed like she could read this thought off my face. “Like I said, we don’t care how you sound.”

“I care. Thank you very much.”

Ignoring this, she encouraged, “Now grow the flame with the same method.”

Ugh. I’d just known that was coming. I blew out a breath and chose to repeat the same melody because why the hell not. “Flame in the oven, grow taller, heat up the oven to the max.”

“Louder,” Ara corrected me. “It’s not growing much because you’re still barely above a whisper.”

Well ex-cuse me for living.

“From the diaphragm!” Coin encouraged.

I promptly pulled it out of my pocket and yeeted it into the oven.

The scream of horror it made as it landed inside was a thing of beauty. Truly, it brightened my soul with joy.

Unfortunately, the second it bounced off the bricks, it threw itself back out again, landing in the water pitcher on the side table.

“Don’t do that!” Coin scolded, sizzling in the water. “What would you do if I melted?”

Cry tears of joy? “It’s not like that fire was hot enough to melt you, anyway. You keep commenting, though, and I really will throw you into a forge and melt you into a cock ring. I won’t lose any sleep at night over it, either.”

“You don’t want a talking cock ring,” Coin rebutted smugly.

A mental image of a cock ring talking smack about me while I had it on flashed through my brain. I shuddered. God, no, never doing that.

“Sounds like a cursed object to me,” Ara said.

I nodded vigorously. For sure. I couldn’t think of anyone I hated enough to gift it to—no, I take it back, my ex leapt to mind. Damn shame I couldn’t send it to him.

Ah well, back to the present. I sucked in a breath, told myself to man up, and sang a little louder. I didn’t sound like a foghorn, but…well, I was no Adele, let me just say that. Still, the flame grew larger, so I was taking the win.

I stopped as soon as it worked, too self-conscious to keep going.

Ara gave me this look like she knew precisely why I hadn’t continued but didn’t call me out on it. “I think you’ve got the principle down. Let’s do a field trip now. Off we go to the Wall.”

May there be no one in that dangerous area, amen.

I drank a quick cup of tea and then headed off. I left Coin in the bucket.

“No, don’t leave me here!” Coin protested from under the water. “I’m still wet!”

I glanced back, not even remotely interested in helping it. Just noted that I couldn’t drown it. Shame, that. I needed to find a volcano and Mount Doom this sucker.

Ara, who was taller than me, had to slow her pace a notch to keep in step with me. I wasn’t short, it was just that everyone else on this planet was much taller; nothing could be done about that. Plus, her Fae genes easily made her six feet tall.

While we walked, I prodded for more information. “You said the miasma was bad enough to call holy maidens multiple times in the past. How long has the miasma been here?”

“Our oldest written records make mention of it some thousand years ago.”

I silently whistled. “Damn. That’s a long-ass time for a problem to linger. Any idea what caused it?”

“No clue.” She shrugged, looking more resigned than anything. “If we knew what it was, we’d have taken it out at the source. There is, however, a legend that tells us why it’s there.”

“Legends sometimes have a basis in fact, so hit me.”

“Over a thousand years ago, we had a serious problem with dragons. They were constantly burning up the fields. My people went to battle with them for centuries, and the last dragon we defeated was in that area where the miasma spawned. People say the dragon cursed us by putting a black spell on its own magical core so that it would pollute the area around it, making the land unusable.”

I sat on that idea for a second as we left the castle’s yard. “Is that plausible?”

Ara waffled a hand back and forth. “Yes and no. For one, I don’t know if a dragon’s magic works in the same way as ours. That seems a bit of a stretch to me, but it’s certainly possible for a spell cast by a dragon to last this long. Their magical cores were insanely powerful, to the point that they were used as a power source for things, and many of those ancient constructs are still working today.”

Huh. Like an infinite battery? “A core can function outside of a body?”

“When put under the proper spells, yes.”

“That’s interesting. So there might be some validity.”

“Possibly.” Ara shrugged again. “It’s not like anyone has figured out an alternative.”

That just made me want to figure it out. I was not the type of person to treat the symptoms and call it good. I wanted to fix the source of whatever the issue was. Besides, if I’d been yanked here to deal with the miasma, then I’d damn well get my revenge on it.

Yesterday, I’d seen the village itself, but Ara took me outside of it. We headed north, toward the Wall, and passed by the fields and farms of the duchy in the process. Or, at least, I assumed they had been fields at one point or another. The farther we walked, the more I saw desolation. Seriously, the Mojave Desert had more going on than this area. It was just dust and fallow ground. Nothing grew here, and a lingering smell permeated the place. Like something rotten.

I looked around and felt something vibrate in my chest, an unsettling feeling like I walked on cursed ground.

“Ara”—I had to swallow before continuing, trying to clear the lump in my throat—“what did these fields grow?”

“Cold weather crops.” Ara’s expression turned sad, her eyes also on the fallow fields. “Beans, kale, lettuce, onions for the most part. Things that grow better in a light frost. But that was in the early days of us living here. Now, nothing. We can grow very little that isn’t touched by the miasma’s blight. Most of our food is imported.”

I winced. Damn, that was expensive. Especially since there was no money for it. No wonder people were on the brink of starvation.

“The miasma isn’t visible, really, until it grows thick. It can impact the fields long before we can detect it. Hence all of this.”

Words failed me. These poor people. I could totally see why they’d get desperate enough to call for a holy maiden. Well, in my case, Coin was responsible, but still. This wasn’t a situation they could win. I could also see why the loss of one of their storage bins was so huge for them. That was food they couldn’t afford to replace.

Ara stopped abruptly. “Anything past here is dangerous for living beings. All right, try to sing.”

I saw pockets of dense miasma ahead, probably a good hundred yards away from us, so I was quite happy to stop here. Not happy to sing, mind you, but happy to stop. I sucked in a breath, blew it out, and tried to come up with a song and lyrics.

Drew a blank.

Oh wait, there was a snippet of something. Uhh…it was kinda campy. You know what, fuck it, anything should work, right?

“Bitch, be gone, your miasma so strong, not to be mean, but you need to leave~”

Ara threw up a hand to stop me. “Sing. Do not do that weird chant.”

“So rap won’t work, huh?” I groaned. “Okay, uh, this is probably going to be weirder, but here goes. Hit the road, miasma, and don’t you come back no more, no more.”

Ara sighed. From the soles of her shoes. “You have to mean it, Jake, not just sing the words. It’s why I had you do that energy work with the fire ahead of time. Put that feeling into your singing.”

I looked at her and felt my stomach drop. Um. What if I wasn’t good at that?

I got the feeling this would be a long-ass day.