The Captain's Witch Episode One Read online

  Chapter 2

  Isabel Mason

  It was a good 40 minute walk until I reached the correct mineshaft. I met a few miners along the path, and they confirmed I was headed in the right direction.

  The nearer I got, the more nervous I felt. With a hand pressed flat over the brown fabric of my sturdy dress, I tried to chase my fright away with my thoughts.

  I could do this.

  I was powerful.

  As a natural witch, I didn’t need to rely on ether from the ground; magic ran through my blood.

  I could incant a quick spell under my breath or trace my hands over a knife to set it alight. And if I was really in a pickle, I could cut my finger and draw a few spots of blood. My blood was extremely pure and powerful. A few drops on a talisman would suffice to give me sufficient power to move a boulder, despite my small size.

  I told myself that – over and over again – as I made my way along the winding path that led to the mineshaft. It was set into the side of a long and almost sheer cliff face. The path was barely eight inches wide, and in sections grew narrower. I had to be mighty careful where I put my feet.

  But I’d grown up in these hills, and I knew how to keep my balance.

  The morning did not warm. Even though the sun was now high in the sky, there was a chill wind whistling through the valley.

  By the time I’d made it to the mouth of the shaft, it had turned into a gale.

  The mouth of the shaft was secured; there was a string of sacred enchantments strung up between the supporting beams.

  The enchantments would ensure nobody crossed into the cursed mine shaft.

  As a witch, all I had to do was lick my finger, say a quick prayer, and unhook the enchantments. There was a spark over my fingers, one that sunk into my hand with a crackle, but it didn’t hurt.

  I dropped the enchantments to the floor, and walked into the darkened mouth of the mine.

  I shivered. Not just from the cold and the whistling wind, but from the feel of this dark tunnel.

  I could definitely sense magic down here. My whole body buzzed with it, in fact.

  That was another advantage of being a natural witch – I was extremely good at rooting out magic. Old Betsy said that if I continued to refine my skills, I would be one of the best witches in all of California.

  I smiled at that thought and I let it bolster me as I curled my hands into fists and walked into the mine.

  With a few more steps, I thrust my hand into my pocket, pulled out a special kind of candle, and lit it with a spell.

  Though the candle was small, the light it cast was not. It reached far into the tunnel, chasing away every shadow but the furthest.

  “I can do this,” I said to myself under my breath.

  I would have to do it, too – as technically I’d already been paid.

  With that sobering thought, I pushed further into the mine.

  …

  Captain Benjamin Carmichael

  It was an uneventful ride to the mine sites. Still, I kept my eyes peeled. If the least I could do was try to detect a Federation in the woods, that was what I would do.

  Yet on a morning as cold and drab as this one, all I saw was the occasional bird flitting through the sky.

  Miss Campbell quickly stopped her incessant chatting. I could tell from all her fidgeting that she was regretting wearing such a voluminous skirt on horseback. Fortunately she didn’t scare the horse, and the resolute beast bore her all the way to the central campsite.

  There, our party dismounted and the show began. For it was a show.

  A fine young lady dressed in fine clothes surrounded by an entourage of gentlemen in bankers black suits, and a cavalry unit.

  Why, these miners would never have seen anything like it. Nor should they have. It was a waste of their time.

  They had valuable roles to play. The raw ether that they mined in these valleys and hills was the lifeblood of the Coalition.

  I shot several of the older gentlemen apologetic looks as Miss Campbell wafted on by.

  Not too soon after, I found myself pulling away from the group to survey the grounds.

  The rest of my fine men were still with Miss Campbell. They would be more than capable of looking after her.

  Instead I followed my curiosity. There were various paths, well-trodden and worn by heavy footfall all through the camp.

  I followed one until I reached a group of bedraggled men. Scratched with numerous cuts across their faces and mud slicked over their brows, they looked as if they’d seen a fight.

  “What happened to you?” I asked without an introduction.

  One of the older men pulled himself to his feet with a grunt. “They haven’t sent the cavalry, have they?” He asked as he scratched his beard. “It’s a bad curse, aye, but I’m sure Miss Mason can deal with it.”

  “What the devil are you talking about? Curse? What happened to you exactly?”

  “One of the new mines has a curse. It’s a bad one. We barely got out with our lives. But that Miss Mason of ours will be able to deal with it. Strong one that one.”

  “Miss Mason?”

  “Apprentice witch.”

  “Am I to understand an unarmed woman has gone to lift, as you say, a bad curse that almost killed a group of sturdy miners?”

  “Oh no, she’s got arms. She’s a witch,” he protested.

  “Curses can be unpredictable. Especially around raw ether,” I said quickly. “In which direction is this mine?”

  “Up that path there.” The man stabbed a thumb behind him indicating a path that wound into the steep hill behind. “But I don’t recommend you go after her, cavalryman. Curse lifting is the job of a mage. You’ll just get in the way.”

  I pressed my teeth together. “I am a mage. I’m a Captain of the White Cavalry,” I said pointedly.

  There was a low and surprised mumble amongst the miners.

  The old man looked particularly shocked. “What’s a White cavalryman doing around these parts? We haven’t been attacked, have we? Are the Federations coming?” He leapt to his feet.

  I put up a hand. “No. I am here on other business. But now I will follow that path and lift that curse and save this Miss Mason,” I said pointedly. “If my men ask where I’ve gone, you will tell them.” With that, I turned and marched towards the aforementioned path.

  This was the first time I would have done something useful in what felt like months.

  For a Captain of the White Cavalry, I had done precious little magic work in a long time. I needed to keep my skills refreshed for the coming war.

  So I took to that path with alacrity.

  …

  Isabel Mason

  This was quite an infection.

  The further I walked into the mine shaft, the more I felt it. Something was feasting off the raw ether.

  The skin along the back of my neck prickled and quick tight shivers kept racing down my arms and into my palms.

  I was way beyond telling myself I could do this. Instead I clutched my hands into fists, driving the fingers deep into my palms as I gritted my teeth.

  To lift a curse, you had to find the origin point. Somewhere in this dark, winding, treacherous mineshaft would be the root of the curse. It often looked like a particularly malignant patch of lichen or moss. In reality, what it was, was an infection. Just like a man’s limb could become gangrenous with a wound, so could the ether.

  To lift the curse, you had to cure it.

  Which wasn’t so hard, as long as you came prepared.

  I shoved a hand into one of the capacious pockets of my coat, and withdrew a small blade. Licking a finger, I touched it to the tip of the blade.

  It began to glow a soft white.

  My hand shook as I held it, but with a quick command, it steadied.

  Not only did I have to find the source of the infection and cure it, but I had to be careful it didn’t find me first.

  The infection would try to defend itself. It would not, how
ever, consider me as much of a threat as the miners had been. They, after all, had been depriving it of ether – stealing it right from the ground.

  Me, I didn’t need ether to practice magic, so I was perfectly placed to cure this infestation.

  Still, as soon as it realized what I was up to, it would defend itself.

  In my time of working with old Betsy, I’d seen the various ways a curse could manifest. Sometimes it would cause clouds of dust to kick up into the shaft that would chase you and try to shred your skin to scraps. Other times it would shake the floor and ceiling, trying to loosen rocks large enough to squash you flat – and dead.

  I had my own defenses, though. As I walked, I kept repeating a quick spell under my breath, one designed to calm the curse.

  Still, this was admittedly dangerous work. And the further I walked into the tunnel, the more dangerous I realized it was.

  Most of the curses I’d addressed previously had been at the mouths of mines, and never this far in.

  The further I walked, the more dangerous it became, because it meant the curse had access to more ether. Ether was sunk deep into the bowels of the earth. So the further down you went, the more of it you came across.

  These hills had already been mined for years, and the miners were having to dig further and further down to find any ether.

  Just before I convinced myself to turn back, I saw it – a light right at the end of the tunnel.

  There was a large rock wall in front of me, and it was black from precipitation – some strange foul liquid covering it completely.

  It gave off a peculiar glow, and as soon as I saw it, I shivered, feeling magic race deep into my bones and tingle across my tongue.

  The infection.

  … I’d never seen one like it. I was used to small patches – not great swathes like this.

  Before the fear could eat into my limbs and unsettle my balance, I continued forward.

  I held on to my small blade, readying the appropriate enchantment.

  That would be when the floor pitched violently. Not violently enough that I was thrown to my knees and I lost hold of my blade, but I did pitch into the wall beside me.

  Gritting my teeth, I pushed up immediately, now letting my voice rattle out as I practically hollered the calming spell.

  I had a good set of lungs on me, and as I bellowed, it echoed off every wall.

  The pitch to the ground stopped. Only a few small stones were unsettled from the ceiling, and though they sailed close by me, with a quick protective spell, none reached me.

  I stopped about a meter away from the wall, sucking in a quick breath. Hand trembling around my blade, I leaned down and carefully put the candle on the ground beside me.

  Still bellowing my enchantment, I snapped forward.

  I plunged my small knife into the wall.

  Immediately I felt the magic. It burst through my body as if I had swallowed a lightning bolt.

  It tried to rebuff my knife, tried to push it out of the wall. But I struggled, planting my feet into the ground and shoving my shoulder hard to ensure the blade did not move.

  My voice echoed as I shouted my enchantment, my throat becoming hoarse and raw.

  But I did not stop.

  The ground began to pitch again, and gave one more violent shake before stopping suddenly.

  I shifted to the side, yanking my shoulder away just as a large stone sailed past. It struck the ground and rolled to a stop against my boot.

  With a single crackle, the black sludge-like substance covering the wall began to recede. It drew into the tip of the knife.

  I began to relax.

  A mistake.

  Just before the last pool of sludge could disappear, it stopped. Then with an almighty bang, my knife shot from the wall, pulling me with it.

  I fell to my knees a few meters away, tumbling and rolling, but fortunately keeping the knife away from my middle so I didn’t gut myself.

  Before I could process what happened, I threw myself to my feet.

  I ran towards the wall.

  The sludge was bursting out of it again, now not only covering the wall, but spilling from the hole I’d made in it with my knife. It was pouring over the rocks, pushing towards me.

  Without a thought, I brought the knife against my thumb, nicked it, and let a few trickles of blood travel down the smooth steel. I leapt towards the wall and I shoved the knife back into it.

  There was an almighty crackle.

  Then, with a single word, I neutralized the curse.

  Whenever I used my blood, it made me 100 times stronger. I didn’t like to use it unless I had to, though... it felt... wrong.

  I didn’t know why, and now was not the time to explore that thought.

  Instead I flattened a palm onto the now clean wall. I closed my eyes and I waited. Waited for any sense of magic within.

  When there was none, I withdrew the knife, let it fall beside me, and I breathed.

  “Well, you managed it,” I told myself.

  And I had.

  But it’d been a darn sight more dangerous than I’d imagined.

  As I turned, I glanced to the rock that had tumbled from the ceiling beside me.

  It was big enough that had it struck me, it would have killed me.

  I shivered.

  I should not linger.

  Cleaning my knife of my blood, I pushed it back into its sheath and back into my pocket, grabbed the candle, turned, and walked back.

  Though it had seemed like an age as I travelled into the mine, it was a relatively short walk back to the mouth.

  And that’s when I heard a man.

  Calling my name.

  “Miss Mason! Miss Mason, are you in there? Are you alright?”

  Rather than answer back, I turned around the last corner in the tunnel, and faced the opening to the mine.

  And the man.

  He was dressed in the Prussian blue of the Coalition cavalry. His uniform was smart, and suited his large build.

  He had stone grey eyes and strawberry blond hair that sat neatly to his shoulders.

  He was really quite handsome.

  There was a scabbard by his side, and a sword in his hand. The sword was glowing with magic.

  … Strange I had noted that fact last.

  “Miss Mason,” he said in a commanding tone as if I were in trouble for something. “There you are.” He waved me forward.

  “… Do I know you?” The answer was no. I did not know this man. Nobody who looked like that lived around these parts.

  “I am Captain Benjamin Carmichael. I’m here to save you, Miss Mason.”

  I frowned. “From what?”

  “From the curse,” he growled. “Now come here.”

  This man may be handsome, granted, but he was dictatorial and extremely forward considering we’d only just met.

  I stood my ground. “There is no longer a curse, sir; I have already cured it.”

  He looked thrown. Then he frowned. “Why, then, is there a strange glow emanating from the end of that tunnel?” He pointed behind me.

  At first I thought he was joking, and I turned slowly with an unamused expression.

  Then I saw the glow.

  My cheeks slackened.

  The infection was back!

  My hand went straight to the sacred blade in my pocket, and I tore it from its protective sheath with a shaking hand.

  Before I could incant a single word, I heard footsteps.

  The light turned out not to be an infection at all, but Harry Pinker.

  Harry was one of the oldest and grizzliest miners in the valley, which was saying something.

  I let out a trapped breath of air, and it whistled through the narrow shaft. “Harry, you scared me senseless. What are you doing here anyway? The other miners were...” I was on the cusp of saying evacuated. Then I saw Harry’s eyes.

  They no longer had any color. They were black, through and through. No whites, no nothing. Just blackness.


  Harry was infected.

  Without a word, he swung his lamp towards me.

  I doubled backwards, bringing a hand up to protect my face.

  Then Harry was upon me. He unhinged his jaw with a click, then screamed. A cursed, deathly, horrifying scream that reached right into me and wrapped hands around my gut.

  Before he could reach out to me, Carmichael acted. He had already closed the gap between us, and he threw himself at Harry, rounding his shoulder and slamming it into Harry’s chest.

  Now Harry was infected, he was a good 10 times stronger. Though he was old, he’d been a miner all his life, and he had the muscles to show for it.

  Carmichael grunted. “Get back,” he screamed at me.

  I shuffled away, but I certainly did not run away.

  Harry took a swipe at Carmichael, letting out another terrifying scream.

  Carmichael let out a grunt of his own, ducking under one of Harry’s punches and deftly dodging to the side.

  Carmichael’s sword was still drawn and it still glowed blue with magic.

  Fortunately he had not used it yet.

  While it was relatively easy to cure rock of a curse, it was much harder to cure a man. If Carmichael plunged that sword deep into Harry’s gut, he might cure the infection, but he would kill Harry instantly.

  “Be careful,” I screamed.

  “Get out of here,” Carmichael called back. He was light on his feet, always staying just out of Harry’s reach. For a man as tall and muscular as Carmichael, that was saying something, for now Harry was infected, he was extremely fast.

  Their boots squeaked and thumped against the rock, the light from Carmichael’s sword catching every shadow. It lit up the underside of his face, glowing along his angled jaw and blazing along his brass buttons.

  In order to cure Harry of his infection, Carmichael would have to disable him and force the man to swallow an enchantment.

  That I could help with.

  With a shaking hand, I grabbed a scrap of paper from my pocket and a small stump of coal. I wrote the enchantment quickly before scrunching it into a tiny ball. “Here, I have an enchantment!”

  Carmichael ignored me. He continued to fight Harry. Despite the fact Harry had the strength of 10 men, Carmichael was holding his own. He used his sword expertly, he also plunged a hand into his pocket and withdrew an ether bottle. It wasn’t like the raw ether I was used to – this stuff was darn pure. As soon as he brought up the bottle, it glowed a spectacular white blue almost more powerful than his illuminated sword.

  With an expert, deft move, he flicked open the top of the bottle and poured some of the content onto his hand.

  Then he started incanting something under his breath in a low mumble that sounded like a far-off earthquake.

  Suddenly sparks of blue leapt over his hand and he brought it around in a powerful fist and punched Harry on the jaw.

  There was a click, and Harry was thrust backwards.

  The old miner was not down yet though. With another terrifying scream that split the air, he thrust himself forward, scrabbling at Carmichael’s boots.

  Carmichael dodged backwards, keeping his sword at arm’s-length. Which was good, because at that exact moment Harry leaned down and with both hands struck the floor of the shaft.

  It shook, and several large rocks loosened from the ceiling above, scattering around Carmichael. He dodged most of them, slashing a particularly large one with his sword and smashing it into dust.

  As for me, I skipped back and dodged everything but a few small stones that scattered off the shoulders of my large jacket and struck the floor by my shoes.

  “Get out of here,” he hollered at me again, “It’s dangerous!”

  I could see that. That’s why Carmichael had to hurry up and accept my enchantment.

  Instead, he swung forward with another fist, and managed to collect Harry on the jaw again.

  There was a crack of broken bone, and Harry did sink to his feet, but he did not stop.

  I was no expert, but Carmichael could not keep this up; his magic would run out. Despite the fact it was pure, it was limited.

  Indeed, as they continued to fight, Carmichael continued to dodge expertly, delivering blows with blinding speed and cracking force. And yet, I saw that brilliant white blue light of his magic start to ebb. Every time he withdrew the bottle from his pocket, there was less and less left.

  Until....

  “Get out of here!” He yelled, his voice now so insistent and loud it echoed like a thunderclap through the shaft.

  Harry responded with a bellow of his own. He unhinged his jaw with a sickening click and let his shout blast over Carmichael’s.

  Carmichael shifted on his boot, retreating backwards a few steps, then repositioning himself and bringing his sword around.

  I knew what he was going to do. He was going to slice Harry through.

  I couldn’t allow that.

  Harry was powerful – this curse was the worst I’d ever seen.

  Which meant I needed power to fight it.

  Bringing up my sacred blade, I cut it across my finger, and I pressed my finger to the rolled up wad of enchantment paper.

  I soaked it through, and I pushed myself forward.

  Carmichael saw me moving, and tried to grab a hand around my middle, but I dodged out of his way.

  Harry saw me, and screamed once more, his scream carrying so far it was as if it pierced the very center of the earth.

  His eyes widened as he stared at me, then he moved, snapping forward with the sickening crack of bone and muscle.

  Carmichael shouted something, but I didn’t hear him. I concentrated. I kept pressing my bloody finger into the enchantment paper until it practically burned with magic. A powerful white light leapt over it, letting out a ferocious glow.

  With this much blood and this much magic sinking into the parchment, there was no need for an incantation.

  Harry swiped towards me, grabbing my arm and dragging me towards him.

  I heard Carmichael behind me, he was readying his sword, maybe just a meter away now.

  I had seconds.

  With a scream, I threw myself at Harry, and I slammed the parchment into the center of his head just before he could use that unhinged jaw on my neck.

  He stopped, frozen by the magic as it swelled through his body.

  Steam started to issue from every pore, and he jerked backwards and forwards as if a whole group of men were shaking him.

  I stood there, keeping that enchantment pressed against his skull. His hand fell from my arm, and then with a gasp like the last breath of a dying man, he fell to his knees, then fell to his side.

  I staggered back and watched the last few wisps of steam escape. If you observed carefully, you could see trails of magical light disappearing into the air. The last few traces of the infection.

  With a massive sigh of my own, I got down on my knees and briefly checked Harry.

  He would be fine.

  I turned and stood up.

  Carmichael was staring at me. I could see how wide the whites of his eyes were as they framed his stone grey irises.

  “What was that?” He asked through a rattling hiss.

  “That was an enchantment,” I said as I patted down my skirts. “It’s the only way to deal with a curse like that,” I said knowledgeably.

  Carmichael didn’t say a word.

  I walked past him to the mouth of the mine. I would have to call down to the main camp to tell them about Harry. I would have no chance of moving him on my own, and somehow I didn’t think this Carmichael character would deign to help me.

  Before I could walk from the mine shaft, Carmichael was upon me.

  He snapped to my side, latching a hand on my wrist, and he turned me around.

  He looked at me sharply, those stone grey eyes suddenly alight like topaz under water. “What on earth?” he asked through a halting breath. “What happened to your cut?”

  I tried to tu
g free from his hand, but it was a hopeless task. “Oh, that’s nothing.” I gestured with my finger. It would stop bleeding soon.

  “Not the cut – the magic. Where did it come from?” His eyes sliced across to mine with such speed it sent the quickest of shivers racing down my back.

  Again I tried to tug my wrist free, but he held it as firmly as a man held his gold. His eyes somehow widened as he traced them over the still crackling gash along my finger.

  I felt cold at the way he was looking at me, cold and unpleasantly exposed. As he searched my finger, turning the hand and dipping his head every which way, I felt like a specimen in a scientist’s lab.

  I swallowed. “Would you please let my hand go?”

  “Let your hand go?” He now looked at me, his eyes like two bonfires on a starless night. “You just practiced natural magic,” for some reason his voice faltered on that term. It tipped and shook, as if he were uttering something forbidden.

  I shook a little as he held me there, my eyes stretching so wide, tension shot down my cheeks. “What... what are you talking about? You’re acting as if you’ve never seen this before? You clearly have magic of your own, so you shouldn’t be this surprised.” I gestured to the magical sword that was now firmly tucked back in the scabbard at his side.

  While I was aware there were still certain folk in this vast country who mistrusted the use of magic, I couldn’t imagine this man was one of them.

  He tore his gaze from my still-bleeding finger once more to look at me, dumbstruck. “I practice magic ma’am – indeed,” he agreed in a constricted tone, fascination encompassing his visage. “But natural magic is....”

  I swallowed. “Is what? Old Betsy the witch in our town told me it was rare, but...” I trailed off.

  “Rare?” his voice shook with ironic mirth, “There have only been two known occurrences ever. Miss Mason, it isn’t rare – it’s virtually unknown.”

  I gave a full bodied shudder now. One that crossed down to my sturdy shoes and shook the ends of my hair, which had come somewhat adrift in my fight with Harry.

  “There... has to be a mistake,” I forced myself to say, “You must be jesting,” I said. Then I turned bright pink with rage. “And a horrible jest this is,” I began.

  “This is no game,” he said in a low baritone that appeared to shake through the mine mouth around us. “While there have only ever been two other cases of natural magic, they were both in Europe, and they were both centuries ago. It’s now held to be a myth...” his voice quieted as he surveyed my cut finger once more. With a hesitant move, he brought his own hand up, securing the leather of his glove in his mouth, then pulling the glove off, letting it fall to the ground by our feet. Then, with the most tentative of searching moves, he touched my finger.

  I really did gasp now.

  His gaze narrowed as one or two charges of magic escaped over his hand.

  He pressed his fingers together and brought them close to his eye, like a man searching dust for gold.

  After a few breathless seconds, he dropped his hand and stared at me. “It’s natural magic alright. And it’s powerful.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I said something foolish: “It’s normal.”

  “Normal?” He raised an eyebrow. “It is normal for magic to lie in the earth. It is not normal for it to lie in the blood of man.” There was a horrible ominous ring to his tone.

  I shook my head. “Old Betsy never said this was dangerous. She said it was an unusual gift, that’s all,” I tried.

  “Is Old Betsy blind?”

  He had me there; Old Betsy was blind and definitely hard of hearing. Still, I was sure she was compos mentis enough to have informed me about how extraordinarily rare this ability was.

  He had to be wrong.

  So I tipped my head back and surveyed him again.

  He shook his head. “This is gravely serious, Miss Mason. A natural skill like this must be brought to the attention of Congress and the Captains of the Whites.”

  “Well,” I said breathlessly, trying to think of another excuse, “I don’t think that matters, as I don’t even know you!” I pointed out, trying again but failing to claim my hand back.

  “That does not matter. You do not need to know me, Miss Mason. All you need to know is that I am a captain of the White Cavalry.”

  “… The Whites?” I squeaked, hating the fact I couldn’t keep my voice even.

  “The Whites,” he confirmed as he brought his free hand up and unbuttoned the top of his jacket. Then he pulled open one side to reveal an emblem burnt into the fabric with magic.

  It was the Whites, alright. The elite magical unit of the Coalition cavalry.

  I swallowed. I wanted to point out that I didn’t know him again, but I could tell that would not get me far. “Well, if you are a Captain of the Whites as you state, then can’t you bring this to the attention of yourself?”

  He gave me a pointed look. “You do not know much, do you?”

  I wanted to shake my head and tell this pompous man I knew plenty, but I didn’t. It was a combination of his gentle yet firm grasp of my wrist and that look in his eye.

  Oh, and the fact he’d just told me I had an ability that hadn’t been seen in centuries.

  I shivered. “Well, I suppose if it is that serious I can write a letter,” I tried.

  He snorted. He looked like a buffalo, the brute. “Miss Mason, you will not be writing a letter. You will be going to see the Captains of the Whites in person. An ability like yours must be studied.”

  “Studied?” I squeaked like a rat who’d been stepped on. “But I can’t leave the valley! I’m halfway through making my jams and preserves for the winter.”

  His face compressed with an unappealing mix of derision and confusion. “Miss Mason, perhaps you haven’t heard me. You have an ability that has not been seen in centuries. One many think doesn’t exist. Your preserves don’t matter,” he said matter-of-factly. “Not now,” there was a low ominous edge to his voice.

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means that right now,” he said stiffly, lips drawing back around his teeth, “We’re on the edge of war. We must track down every advantage we can.”

  I recoiled. “I’m not an advantage.”

  “I didn’t mean to suggest you are. But your ability must be studied,” he countered firmly. “And hidden,” he suddenly frowned, staring past me and across to the empty path that led back around the cliff. “How many people know of your ability? Other than this dubious old Betsy?”

  I started to count on my fingers. “There’s Mister Brown and Sally, and there’s Mavis,” I ran my lips through my teeth as I thought.

  “Never mind. Do any of them consider it unusual? Have they ever acted suspiciously around you?”

  “The other day Mavis accused me of cursing her cows, but then realized there was too much clover in the field.”

  He shook his head. “While that is undoubtedly fascinating, it is not what I asked. Miss Mason, I need you to concentrate, for this is very serious. Do you believe anyone knows how unusual your ability is?”

  I was starting to get a particularly unsettled feeling in my stomach. It felt as if I’d swallowed a baby bird and the little thing was flitting around my belly – up and down and all around – trying to escape.

  I pressed a hand to my gut.

  “Miss Mason,” Captain Carmichael insisted through bared teeth. “Think.”

  I shook my head. Then I stopped. I frowned. “Nobody in town thinks I’m unusual. But...” I frowned as I tried to remember something.

  “But what?” Carmichael said, his insistence growing more and more forceful.

  “But there was a strange man who came through the town not two weeks ago. He...” I couldn’t think of what to say next. He what? He’d unsettled me, that was all, surely. It was nothing worth mentioning to Captain Carmichael, especially not considering he was in such an unpredictable mood.

  “Who was he?”
/>
  “I’m not sure. He stayed a single night. Why, I just thought he was a prospector. We get so many, after all.”

  “How did he find out about your ability?”

  “Mavis told him,” I swallowed. “She was bragging. He came into the saloon one night, looking for a place to stay. He kept going on about how important the magic stores in this valley would be when the war comes. He kept asking where they were too. And Mavis... oh, I can’t really remember how it came up, but she suddenly started bragging about the fact I could do magic with my very hands.” I gulped again.

  Captain Carmichael had a very peculiar expression. It wasn’t nice. Not that it spoke of suspicion towards me – but his brow was crumpled, his lips drawn thin, and those stony grey eyes were like a storm on the horizon. “What else can you tell me about this man?”

  “Oh... it’s probably nothing, but....”

  “But what, Miss Mason?”

  “He was quite off-putting,” I managed. “Kept looking at me like I was some kind of painting on the wall or a jewel in a box,” I said clumsily.

  Throughout this entire conversation, Carmichael had not dropped my hand. He had, however, withdrawn a clean cloth from his pocket to press against my cut.

  He had an alarmingly reassuring grip. The kind of grip you forgot about after a few seconds as it seemed so natural.

  “Anything else?”

  “Now this is very silly, but I heard from old John, who is a tracker, that he,” I bit my lip, “Well, saw that man carrying the colors of the Federations out in the woods. He only changed into regular clothes when he neared our town. But you need to understand old John is as wild as they come. He loves tales more than he loves his whiskey, and that’s saying something,” I said earnestly, trying to shift that look of shock from Carmichael’s eyes.

  It would not be shifted. “This is serious,” he said in the lowest most disconcerting tone yet. “Enough discussion. We must take you back to my group. There I will decide what to do with you.”

  I spluttered. “Decide what to do with me?” My voice rose high with indignation and echoed down the tunnel mouth.

  “Do not complain about your preserves,” he said firmly as he pulled me forward.

  “Hold on, we can’t leave – I haven’t settled all my bills in town.”

  He suddenly turned on me, eyes blazing. “Miss Mason, have I failed to impart the severity of the situation?” He said in a strained tone that echoed back down the mineshaft.

  I shivered.

  “No, I haven’t, have I? Without question, we will leave as soon as we can.”

  “But I can’t go to Washington,” I protested. “I’ve never travelled that far.” As far as arguments went, it was extremely weak, and I knew it would fail before the words left my lips.

  He arched one eyebrow then the other, a few strands of his sandy blond hair falling across his face as he jutted out his chin and stared down at me. “This I can believe. But, Miss Mason, there is a first time for everything. To Washington you will go.” With that, he tugged me forward.

  …

  Captain Benjamin Carmichael

  By the time we made it around the side of the cliff face and down the steep path to the valley, Isabel had wriggled free from my grip to begin stomping by my side.

  Every few seconds she would think of a new excuse.

  No excuse would cut-it however.

  She had natural magic... just thinking about it made me shiver.

  Securing control of the ether stores in California and related states would decide the coming war. Everybody knew that.

  Whoever had access to more magic would win.

  Just as everybody knew magic only came from the earth.

  But Isabel Mason had it running in her blood.

  I took a surreptitious look at her as she walked beside me. She was thankfully surefooted, even in her long skirts and heavy buffalo jacket. Her brown buckled boots would flash from underneath the fabric as she took to the loose rocks with ease.

  Though I had just met her, I could tell she was too free with her opinions for my taste, and for most people’s tastes, I would imagine. But with her dark long glossy hair and hazel eyes, she made for a striking distraction. If you could make it past the drab clothes, muddy fingernails, and loose tongue.

  “Are you staring at me, Captain Carmichael?”

  “I must ensure you do not fall.”

  “For the good of the country?” She crossed her arms, even though we were negotiating around the loose scree of a rock fall.

  I frowned at her pointedly. “Do not make me carry you.”

  She spluttered, hazel eyes widening with indignation as her cheeks turned rosy. “Excuse me?” Her voice trilled.

  “Do not fall,” I pointed from her crossed arms to the loose rocks below her, “Miss Mason. Otherwise I will have to carry you down this steep valley. And that will not put me in a good mood.”

  For a second she looked alarmed, then she snorted. A thoroughly unattractive noise, but she did not seem the type of character to care about that. “I have walked through these valleys my whole life, Captain Carmichael,” she retorted. “If anyone is to make a mistake with their footing, sir,” she said derisively, “It will be you.”

  With that, she marched ahead, even scrambling up a large boulder like an indignant mountain goat. With one hand hooking her half loose hair behind her ear as the wind took it, she turned towards the horizon.

  “What exactly are you doing up there?” I asked as I ground to a halt below the boulder. I could easily clamber it just as she had done, with more agility, too. But I did not wish to stand that close to her.

  “Checking the weather, Captain. It can turn treacherous quickly in the Sierra Nevada. You do know your geography, don’t you?” She remonstrated as she arched an eyebrow.

  I pressed my lips together, slowly revealing my clenched teeth as I gave her a warning smile. “Better than you. Now get down from there.”

  “I do not take orders from you.”

  I now smiled through bared teeth. “Miss Mason—” I began.

  I stopped.

  The call of an animal wrought the air. Not just any animal. Though on the face of it, it sounded like a wolf, there was a low undercurrent of magic.

  It was a ragmal, I was sure of it.

  And what was a ragmal? A creature who had feasted on too much ether and had become a diabolical monster.

  “What was that?” Isabel turned, the wind catching more stray strands of her hair and sending it tumbling over her shoulders.

  “Get down from there,” I snapped.

  When she didn’t comply, I clambered onto the rock beside her, drawing her close as I grabbed her wrist.

  She spluttered, but then another eerie cry wrought the air.

  I watched her face turn pale. “What is that?”

  “No ordinary wolf,” I said through clenched teeth.

  There should be no ragmals in this territory. They are hunted. For good reason. A single one could tear through a town in a night and kill every man, woman, and child.

  And if they found another source of magic to gorge themselves upon, it could take an entire cavalry unit to take one down.

  There were government-sponsored trackers, even this far down south, paid to kill every ragmal they came across.

  “We must make it back to the camp,” I counseled earnestly as I turned to jump down from the rock. As I did, my boots slipped on a treacherous patch of moss, and I tumbled forward, bringing Isabel with me.

  Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her, cushioning the blow as my back slammed against the rocky path.

  I let out a groan as she thumped heavily against my chest. And she, well, she let out a squeak.

  There was a low rumbling chuckle.

  I heard footsteps along the path below us, and they paused. “Miss Isabel Mason, is that you in the arms of a cavalryman?”

  Isabel now squeaked like a baby bird as she struggled to push herself off my ches
t. Her hair tumbled around my face, playing gently against my jaw and neck.

  She jumped to her feet swiftly and the warm press of her body was gone.

  I too scrambled to my feet, noting Miss Isabel Mason’s cheeks had turned crimson.

  There was a man standing a few meters down the path dressed in suspenders, a strong sturdy shirt and pants, good boots, and holding an old Smith & Wesson.

  “What would your mam have said if she saw you here like that with him?” The man nodded to me with a waggle of his chin and considerable grey beard.

  I cleared my throat. “Miss Mason fell,” I corrected.

  She snorted. “I didn’t fall. You did.”

  My lip twitched. “She—” I began.

  Another cry split the air, this one close enough that it sent a cold shiver pouring down my back.

  I jerked my head to the left quickly.

  “Don’t you worry, me and the boys are onto it. We don’t know how it slipped past our line,” the man brought his gun down, one hand locked on the trigger as the other supported the barrel, “But it won’t get past us again.”

  “That’s a ragmal,” I warned automatically.

  The man snorted. “You think we don’t know that?”

  “… What’s a ragmal?” Isabel asked as she turned her wide alarmed gaze over her shoulder.

  “Nothing for you to be worrying your head about, Miss Isabel.”

  “Is it magical?” She asked.

  “Nothing for you to worry about, Miss Isabel,” the man repeated as he toted his gun. Then he tipped his hat at her, gave me a cursory glance, and moved up the path beside us.

  “What’s going on?” Isabel insisted.

  The man ignored her.

  She went to move off after him, but I placed a hand on her shoulder. “Leave him to it. We must get you back to camp.”

  She turned on me. “Carmichael, this is not your town, so you cannot interfere. As a practicing mage, it is my responsibility—” she began.

  “To follow me,” I cut in.

  I pulled her forward. This time with a sure hand, determined that I would not let her go until we reached camp.