Measureless Magic: Ch. 8 & 9

So, probably you're not supposed to comment on political stuff as a content creator, but I worked as an editor and reporter for my high school newspaper, ran an online magazine in the heady late 90s era of the internet, and worked at television news station for several years after I graduated college. Free speech is incredibly important to me, and this past week has been frightening.

Even leaving aside the Kimmel stuff, the new rules from the Department of War should worry anyone. It's a 17-page document, but this sentence is enough: "However, DoW information must be approved for public release by an appropriate authorizing official before it is released, even if it is unclassified."

So, in other words, if you want to criticize the Department of War, you need permission from the Department of War.

It shouldn't be hard to see why that is a Big Problem: just imagine someone who is both unethical and completely politically opposed to you in charge of that department. Anyone with interview access will have signed a pledge that can be used to prevent them from sharing negative opinions.

Anyway, I don't plan to make a habit of getting too political here, but I couldn't let this week pass without comment.

Chapter 8

Pragmatic magic tends to hold great appeal to those who excelled in their science courses. It was the first type of magic discovered in the premodern era.

• Magical Theory, age 13 textbook

No one wanted to believe Ravel’s theory, least of all Ravel himself.

The mood in the room had briefly surged as Ravel had begun making his map. People had come to him with information and some plucked their courage to brave the archway for the first time just so they could participate. Even those who didn’t go into the archway in an effort to find information themselves had moved closer, eyeing the map with interest.

For a few minutes, their situation had seemed… well, still bad, but something solvable. Something they could work together to overcome.

But as the escalating pain from the red light spurred person after person to throw themselves through the archway, evidence continued to mount. Over a dozen people were sharing Ravel’s chalk now, and the row of individual maps growing on the wall were all wildly different from one another. Even if people were making mistakes, the dissimilarities were large enough to convince all but the most stubborn that information about the maze could not be shared.

When the light came through once more, it left visible burns and welts on the people who’d stubbornly refused to ‘enter’ the darkness at all. The injuries weren’t large or severe, but they signified a clear escalation in intensity. Now, more people had entered the darkness - at least once - than had not, and many of those who were still dragging their feet were standing near the archway and peering inside, as if trying to gather their courage.

Raza seemed to take the news that each maze was individual personally. She rushed back inside repeatedly, rolling to her feet as soon as she was knocked out, barely taking a second to reorient herself, although Ravel couldn’t help but notice that her frown got deeper and deeper with each attempt. 

In and out, over and over. Despite his desire to avoid drawing her wrath or attention, he couldn’t help but be curious when he saw her finally sit still, her arms resting atop her knees and face plastered with a bewildered expression.

“Is the pain of getting kicked out getting worse?”

She seemed surprised to be spoken with, but shook her head slowly, not really looking at Ravel. “No. Why are you so fixated on that? It’s the second time you’ve asked. If anything, I feel like it’s hurting less over time.”

“Maybe you’re just getting used to it.”

“Hm…” her response was noncommittal. Whatever she was thinking about seemed more interesting than this discussion. 

Ravel tried again. “You’ve been, uh, pretty driven.”

That got her attention. “Just because most people are lazing around doesn’t make it smart.”

Ravel opened his mouth to defend himself, to defend the group… then stopped. “Look. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to… to argue with you. I just… You’ve been inside there more than anyone, and you look kind of… concerned. If there’s something worrying you, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell the rest of us.”

At first, he wasn’t sure if she’d reply. She was actually looking at him now, but her face seemed irritated. Disgusted, maybe? Just when he was about to apologize again, her shoulders slumped a little and she flapped a hand at the darkness. “The… maze. If it is a maze. It’s not different for each person. I’m sure of it, now.”

“It’s not?”

“No.” Raza shook her head. “It’s different each time you go in. If it’s a maze at all. I’ve run to the left ten times now, and it’s never the same. At first I thought that maybe there was a path and I was veering off of it. But I’ve been kicked out a few times within a few steps of the entrance, and this last time I really tested it. Walked back-and-forth in zig-zags on that side of the door, and stayed in for… not sure. A long time. It shouldn’t have been possible.”

Another girl, who’d been going in more than most, stiffened as he heard Raza’s words. “You too? I thought… I thought I was making mistakes.”

A boy, who’d just been adding another line to his map, stared at both of them. “No! That… that can’t be right. I just…” 

He cut off and rushed into the doorway once more. 

When he was pushed out, a few seconds later, there were tears in his eyes, and she marched over to drag a sleeve across the row of chalk maps-in-progress. 

Another girl blocked him, standing in front of her own map and spreading her arms. “Erase your map if you want, but leave mine alone! I’ve been working hard on it!”

He dropped his arm but shrugged. “Fine. Keep it if you want, but it’s useless. It doesn’t stay the same in there. We can’t map it out.”

His words slammed the door in the face of whatever hope was left. 

“What do we do?” Anna asked.

“Get lucky, I guess,” Raza said. She pushed herself to her feet once more, and then darted through the door.

A few others followed her in, if more slowly. They moved stiffly, faces set in grim determination.

They were a minority. 

“This is insane!” hissed Anna as Raza slapped to the floor in front of them once more. “There’s nothing in there. No clues!”

“At least no one else has disappeared,” Ravel said. “Maybe that first girl is just staying in there. I hope she didn’t trip and hurt herself. She seemed like she wasn’t doing well.”

“Well, at least she’s getting some rest,” Anna said. “If we don’t figure this out, we’ll all have to sleep in there.”

The statement brought Ravel up short. “Oh, wow. You’re right. The red light. There’s no way we can sleep through that, especially if it keeps getting stronger.”

Raza had been heading back toward the archway, but she stopped now. “No shit, Threads. That’s obvious. Maybe stop lazing around?”

“That’s why you’ve been so intense about this?”

Raza shrugged. “One of the reasons. Does this look to you like a place we can live? You found a water faucet but… there’s no toilets, no beds, no food. The red light is a kindness, really. We can’t stay here, even if some idiots think otherwise.”

The last sentence was directed toward the small group of welt-covered teens who had yet to enter the archway. They didn’t react to Raza, and she shook her head in irritation before she turned away.

Ravel frowned. Raza was… abrasive was the nicest word for it. Bossy, insensitive, judgemental… plus, he’d told her his name, now, but she kept calling him “Threads!” But, even so, he couldn’t say she seemed stupid. Reckless and rude, sure, but stupid? Not really, as much as he wanted to say otherwise. It was part of why he kept talking to her, despite her caustic manner. 

He forced himself to really think about her assertion. Is she right?

Maybe.

Maybe we could stay here. Food is a problem, but maybe we can use magic to fix that? There’s clearly magic here. Even if Koby’s relatives were lying about a lot of things, they weren’t lying about that. And it’s not enough magic to turn us into monsters, at least not right away. If anyone started mutating, I’m sure they would have said something. 

Mutations weren’t something to hide. He knew that. Even if there was no magic in the nurseries, some mutations were stable. Plenty of people had parents or older siblings or cousins who’d suffered magical mishaps and could still visit. It was common to bring people with stable Mutations to talk to students during Wellness classes, both to emphasize that they were still human - even under the physical changes - and to drum into students that if they did ever touch magic and undergo a mutation, they needed to tell people immediately so they could get medical attention.

It happened; the shield was far enough from most windows and balconies to make accidentally reaching outside of it impossible, but every so often someone would put a lot of effort into doing something really stupid. The last one in Spider nursery had been a couple of years back, when some kid worried about graduation had convinced their siblings to lean a bunk bed ladder up against a balcony railing and hold it while they climbed out to touch the magic. 

That girl still graduated, but with only one arm. She’d gone unconscious almost immediately after touching the magic, her hand ballooning into something strange and blocky. Her brothers had a hold on her leges and had wrestled her back onto the balcony and rushed her to Doctor May. She’d recovered after her hand had been amputated at the wrist, but the doctor had come to Ravel’s Wellness class - to all the wellness classes - the following week, detailing exactly how close the girl had come to dying.

“Her body didn’t have enough blood to support her new hand. She wasn’t getting enough oxygen to any part of her body. If I hadn’t been able to move quickly enough, she could have suffered permanent brain damage.”

 No. Mutations were unpleasant to look at, but everyone knew the important health rules: brush your teeth, spend at least an hour a day in the activity center, tell someone you trust if anyone asks you to keep a secret that makes you uncomfortable, report new mutations immediately without exception. Even if most of these kids came from other nurseries, Ravel couldn’t imagine that would be different.

Let’s say we figure out food. What would staying here look like?

Ravel thought about that. I’d have to sleep in the darkness, probably. If I rolled over in my sleep, I’d probably get slapped out of the darkness and have to go back in. During the day, I’d have to keep running in, over and over, if I didn’t want to get hurt by the red light. And… I might move on anyway, by accident. That’s probably what happened to that Urchin girl, right?

Or… did she figure it out? She seemed to know things the rest of us didn’t. I know a lot of doctors and scientists live near Urchin. She could read those weird letters. Ravel glanced at the sign above the door. Now that he’d been told it said “Enter,” he could almost see it, but it was still hard to credit. Why were so many letters squished inside of Cs? The letter the girl had said was an N looked more like an “A” to Ravel, but he was trying not to dwell on that. If she’d been wrong about that, it would make the word “Eater,” a sinister interpretation that Ravel hadn’t voiced aloud. 

Why would he? No matter what the word said, it was clear that avoiding the archway would be punished. 

They’d been in this room for over an hour now, and the last blast of red light had been gruesome, leaving behind broad welts that had broken skin and were oozing blood. It had finally been enough to convince almost all the holdouts to enter. There were only two who had yet to give it a try, and a crowd had gathered around them, trying to convince them to change their minds.

If I’ve got to at least pretend to try, I might as well try for real, Ravel thought.

He pushed himself to his feet mechanically and lurched through the door.

What do I try? Just… random turns? What’s the point?

He was violently shoved out of the darkness once more.

That always seems to get me when I least expect it, Ravel thought with irritation. Is there anything else I can do besides wander randomly? It doesn’t let two people enter at the same time, but what if I tie a thread to something outside and come in?

It was worth a shot. He set down his backpack near the arch and tied the thread around a shoulder strap.

For a second, he thought it was working, but then he felt the end of the thread flutter against the back of his hand. In the dark, he inspected it: he’d let out about five feet, but the thread had been cut far shorter than that.

About two feet long, Ravel thought. Is that useful? He couldn’t see how.

He wandered aimlessly, mind working, until a few seconds later his skin was smarting and he was on his back in the light.

I never seem to see that coming! Ravel thought. Wait… does it kick you out as soon as you relax? Well, probably not relax, I don’t think anyone’s relaxing, but… when you let your guard down a little bit? Maybe it’s trying to punish us for not being alert?

It was easy enough to test. Ravel grabbed his pack and marched into the darkness once more, determined to remain focused.

Once more, he was kicked out.

So that wasn’t it. Or… wait, did I relax a little at the end there? I… I think I did.

Another try, this time digging his nails into his palms painfully, trying to physically prevent relaxation as he crept forward.

It didn’t take many steps into the darkness before he regretted his choice. I hope I’m not actually cutting my skin. Hand injuries are the worst. But what else could I do? I guess I could jab a needle in somewhere else, but it would have to be really deep to actually hurt continually. Honestly, even what I’m doing doesn’t hurt that-

He froze. 

Did I… just start relax again?

Why?

He flexed his hands. He could still hurt himself. Was there anything different? Is it warmer here? I don’t think so, but something here feels… better. I don’t know why. Am I imagining things?

There was one way to find out. He stepped forward, fully expecting to be kicked out…

And he was.

He was so prepared that he didn’t even fall over, running back a few steps to absorb the force and stay on his feet.

Was that… was that luck? Can I do it again?

He walked back inside, edging forward slowly, creeping forward at a snail’s pace as he stretched his hands as far in front of him as he could, trying to pick up on that elusive feeling.

Was there something different there?

He stood in place, reaching his hands forward and pulling them back over and over. It wasn’t warmer in front of him. He was sure of that now. 

It was tempting to say the air felt smoother or softer, but that wasn’t it either. He couldn’t put the difference into words. Every time he came up with an analogy, he realized it was wrong. Whatever this sensation was, he didn’t have an analogue for it.

He pulled his arms back against his chest for a moment, thinking.

If I really can detect what kicks me out. I should be able to find another spot that’ll do it.

He turned to his left and slid forward, hands once again held in front of him, frowning as he focused. 

Five steps later, he thought he felt it again.

So… if I’m right… 

One more step.

He was slapped onto his back in the main room, making Raza jump aside as he was pushed into her path.

She barely glanced at him, continuing her journey back to the archway… but then she turned around, coming back over. “Huh. What’s that grin for, Threads?”

He laughed, a slightly hysterical sound of relief. “I think… I think I know what’s happening here. I think I know how to get through the darkness.”

Chapter 9

Pragmatic magic is far less dangerous than its counterpart. While tragedies still befall practitioners, such events can, without exception, be traced back to a lack of precision, understanding, or preparation. 

• Magical Theory, age 13 textbook

“It’s magic,” Ravel said.

“No shit, Threads,” Raza said. She was still standing over him, but now she looked away, rolling her eyes. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”

“No! The paths are magic!”

“Uhhh… yeah? Obviously. This whole place is.”

Ravel shook his head, too excited to let her cynicism dampen his mood. “Not the whole place. At least, I don’t think so. I think that when we wander off the paths, there isn’t magic!”

Raza frowned. “If that’s true, then how does it kick us out?”

Ravel hesitated, uncertain. “I… I don’t know. Maybe it’s just less magic? Or maybe I have it backwards. But I don’t think I do.”

“Oh? Why?”

Ravel shrugged. “Getting kicked out of the darkness hurts.”

Raza snorted. “Maybe a little.”

“I mean, it doesn’t feel good, right? We can agree on that at least?” He waited just long enough for Raza to give a slight twitch of acknowledgement. “So every time I went in, I was bracing myself, waiting for it to happen again. But it seemed like it got me every time I stopped being ready for it.”

He’d gotten her attention. “And how does that mean there’s no magic there? Or less magic? Whatever.” Despite her challenging words, her tone was thoughtful. Curious.

“Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Ravel asked, sitting up. “We were ready for magic training. Maybe that’s what we’re getting. Maybe the maze is meant to help us start sensing it.”

Raza bit her lip. “And feeling safe made you decide all that?”

Ravel stood, brushing off his pants. “Well… we grew up in the nurseries, right? No magic there. Even those of us who were most excited about learning magic-” he nodded his head toward Anna, who was sitting against a wall with her head in her hands “-wouldn’t hesitate to go back this moment if we could. So I think when I felt safe, it was because it felt like home.”

“Because there’s no magic,” Raza said slowly. “Or less, anyway.”

“I think so,” Ravel said. “Even if I’m wrong about why, though, I think I can sense the edges of the paths. I’ve done it twice. No, three times! I think I can make it through.”

Raza nodded slowly. “Good luck, then. Thanks.”

“Wait!” The exclamation came from Anna, who was scrambling to her feet. “Ravel, are you sure about this?”

He shrugged. “Not really. But… what else can we do?”

“Stay here?” she said. “Sleep in the darkness? We don’t know for sure what happened to that first girl. Maybe she’s dead. We know the castle killed people.”

Ravel wasn’t convinced anyone had died, but it still seemed unwise to voice his skepticism aloud. “It’s dangerous both ways, Anna.”

Anna opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. She hesitated, then let out a shaky little laugh. “I want to argue with that but I can’t. What’s happened to us? This morning, I was excited to be a mage, and you didn’t want anything to do with it. Now, we’re here, and you’re the brave one and I’m…” She trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the sentence.

“I’m not brave,” Ravel said. Say something nice! He yelled at himself internally. She’s sad and she’s been nice to you! Just say something nice, it’s not hard. Anything! It’s easy. Think of something!

Silence stretched as Ravel’s mind flailed.

Anna shook her head. She flung her arms around him. “Stay safe. I’ll pray for you.”

“You too,” Ravel said, returning her hug. “You stay safe too.”

Smooth, he heckled himself. 

Anna stepped away, and Ravel turned away to hide his burning cheeks. Suddenly, a black void where no one could hear him was exactly where he wanted to be.

…

He really had to focus to detect the difference. The… magic levels? Probably? He’d done it a few times now, but it was incredibly subtle. If he stopped paying attention, he’d miss it for sure. He had to inch along, sometimes stopping to pull his arms in and out, and think carefully about every step.

Unfortunately, the memory of Anna’s words kept distracting him.

Brave? Me? Ravel didn’t think that was accurate. This morning, he’d planned to get through graduation as safely as possible. Graduation had not gone anything like he’d expected - whether this whole “trapped in the castle” thing was true or not - but his priorities hadn’t changed.

But his original plan for staying safe was useless now.

What if I really am trapped in the castle?

It was hard to think about. Not just because it was frightening - although it was - but because if it was true, almost anything was possible.

If he’d been in Walker training, he’d have known what to be scared of, more or less. Yes, people lost control of magic during training, and you didn’t know what would happen then. Sometimes they got lucky, and the magic was channeled into something relatively harmless, like a few objects manifesting or a gust of wind that pushed people over. Other times, the half-controlled magic would create explosions or poison or leave the trainee as deformed as the chickens he’d seen during the demonstrations.

But even so, the risk, fell within rigid boundaries. Accidents could happen during training, but he’d be safe the rest of the time. And once he got through training? He’d be as safe as any other adult on the island. Safer, really, since he’d only be exposed to raw magic on the way to and from work, unlike the ant ranchers or the grandelion harvesters, who spent hours each day outside in the storm. The weavery had barriers up to keep out magic, and those barriers were common on apartments, too. His aunt had assured him that it wouldn’t be hard to find a magic-free residence. You couldn’t get anything as solid as the nursery’s ancient wards, which had stood flawlessly for hundreds of years, but you didn’t really need to. Ravel was hardly the only one who was frightened of magic, and many of Marynth Isle’s mages specialized in creating temporary wards. If you were willing to pay a mage to come by every twenty days or so to take the old ones down and set up a fresh set, they’d be pretty reliable.

He had savings. He had thought he’d be able to spend most of his life almost as safe as he’d been in the nursery.

Now?

Well, he was praying this was all a prank of some kind. Magic was all around him, constantly, but that was only the start of his worries. He had no idea what the risks were. No one knew what happened to people inside the castle. 

Was pursuing the Walker path even feasible, if he was trapped? He had no idea, but it seemed doubtful. Outside the castle, he had a plan for what he’d do as a Walker: he’d use the skills he’d honed to provide a valuable service that even mages would enjoy. After all, magic could do most anything, but it didn’t make the one casting it magically understand how to make clothing that was attractive and comfortable. Some did understand, of course - he’d seen visitors in clothing that was clearly magic-created, in beautiful colors and fabrics the weavery couldn’t replicate - but he didn’t know of any who made clothes full-time. As the man on the bus had said: “We always need more mages.” That was common knowledge. Temporary wards on homes and vehicles, more Guardians to protect Marynth Isle in emergencies, craftsmages to maintain the enchantments that ensured the island had a stable supply of water, and more. 

In Marynth City, there were plenty of helpful roles available to a Walker, jobs like childcare, tailoring, farming, and cooking. Non-mages could handle those and let mages focus on the work that Walkers couldn’t handle.

He had no idea if that was true in the castle.

He was worried that it wasn’t.

I don’t even know if anyone can survive in the castle, Ravel realized. Maybe everyone who has ever come in is dead now. Or maybe most people survive. Maybe there’s a whole second city in here. Maybe once you get past the first rooms with the murder and the pain it’s actually a nice place to live.

He didn’t believe that, not really, but he couldn’t rule it out. He couldn’t rule anything out. 

If I can’t be sure of anything… can I make any solid guesses? Any predictions?

At a minimum, there probably wasn’t a whole extra city in here. If the people who’d trapped them had been telling the truth about anything, the amount of magic in this area was one Avalon: safe enough for an adult or a teenager, but risky for an infant.

It seemed unlikely that the rest of the castle had less magic than that, so there probably weren’t people starting families in here.

Oh, and there was no one here to meet us.

If there were a lot of people in the castle, wouldn’t some of them place a high priority on greeting and helping newcomers? So either they couldn’t get to this place, or graduates didn’t always come in here, or…

Or everyone who comes here dies.

Ravel shuddered. 

Or, hopefully, this is just some kind of sick test. Yeah. Let’s hope for that. Thinking about all of this isn’t helping. Better to just keep moving forward. I’ve been standing still for a while now. Actually… people have been talking about sleeping inside the darkness, but… has anyone actually tried staying in here for a long time, yet? 

I’d rather not be the one who figured out that this was dangerous too.

The thought galvanized him into motion. A slow shuffle, sure, but this time, he wasn’t stopping. He kept his hands in front of him, flexing his fingers as he tried to feel the tell-tale sensation he had identified.

He moved forward carefully, following the right edge of the maze or the path, or whatever it was. He turned once, twice, three times, and then…

He was out.

Ravel blinked at the sudden brightness. For a moment, he thought he’d been kicked out again, but no, he was standing, and the room wasn’t filled with people, and-

A bright voice rang out, heavy with relief: “You’re alive!” 

Sitting against the far wall was the Urchin girl.