Slaying Monsters for the Feeble - Annette Marie Page 0,48
by the loud clack of a lock. A spell unlocked by a rune? That was clever—and meant only Arcana mythics could enter.
“Get a good look at that,” she told me as she capped the marker. “It’ll fade in about ten seconds.”
The pink lines were already losing their vibrancy. I squinted, memorizing the shape—a variation of a common cantrip—then nodded. Zora threw the door open.
I followed her inside, my jaw dropping.
The first thing I noticed was the three-foot-diameter circle drawn in the middle of the room. The smooth, polished black floor looked like poured glass, without a single seam, crack, or blemish. Next, I spotted the huge skylight built into the flat ceiling above the circle, the glass speckled with raindrops. A worktable and a stool occupied one side of the room. On the other side was a long counter with tiny, neatly labeled drawers underneath it and cupboards above. The back of the room contained a massive bookshelf overflowing with leather-bound texts.
“The Arcana Atrium!” Zora pointed at the ceiling. “Skylight for spells that need sunlight, moonlight, starlight, all that jazz. The cupboards have basic ingredients and components, and if anything is missing, they probably have it downstairs in the alchemy lab. There’s a testing room down there too, for more experimental spellwork.”
She opened a cupboard. A tangle of rulers and giant protractors tried to fall on her head and she slammed it shut. “See? Everything you need. And …”
Striding to the bookshelves, she gestured dramatically. “And all the spell compilations, grimoires, and instructional texts you could want. Unless you plan to jump right into abjuration or something. We’re not that advanced.”
Grinning at my stunned expression, she perused the shelves. “Let’s see … this one? No … aha! This one.”
She slid a book off the shelf and flipped it open. Stepping around the circle on the floor, I joined her.
“This book has a whole bunch of impello variations. Some of these—wow, look at this beast of a spell!—yeah, some are pretty demanding. How far into your apprenticeship are you?”
“Yeah,” I said vaguely, avoiding her question about my apprenticeship. Admitting I’d been a sleeper—a non-practicing mythic—up until a few weeks ago would be excessively dumb. Though I’d never officially apprenticed, I’d studied enough Arcana to sort of count as a sorceress. Maybe.
Zora handed me the book. “See what looks doable. You could make a few simple artifacts and try them out before investing in a high-quality one.”
“Good idea,” I breathed, drinking in the diagrams and instructions that filled the open pages of the book.
Chuckling at my obvious distraction, Zora headed for the door. “If you want to start something, check the schedule clipboard to make sure no one else has reserved the room. And don’t forget to turn the sign over!”
By the time I dragged my stare off the book, she’d disappeared through the door.
“Turn the sign?” I muttered.
Balancing the book on one palm, I crossed to the door and flipped the sign over. On its opposite side, bold black text read, “Arcana In Progress.” Under that, in red marker, someone had scrawled, “So keep out, losers!”
I settled the sign in place, text showing, and closed the door. Sliding onto the stool at the worktable, I began paging through the book, skipping past the easy spells to the more difficult ones. The room was quiet, the smell of books, leather, herbs, and a hint of something burnt tickling my nose. Part of me instantly relaxed, while another coiled with building tension.
I was going to make an artifact. I was about to do real magic.
Cantrips were the most basic form of sorcery—building blocks more than usable tools. The next level up was a hex—a reusable cantrip. But a sorcerer’s true power lay in artifacts. Spells of immense power and complexity, some of which took hours, days, or even weeks to construct, could be sealed into portable objects and triggered by a simple incantation.
Zora’s blood trackers were a type of artifact. For myself, I wanted something more impressive, something that would make an adversary think twice about attacking me—assuming I could pull it off. Considering I’d never made an artifact before in my life, that might be a stretch.
At least if I screwed it up, no one would see. This room was comfortingly private.
The infernus tucked inside my shirt buzzed with heat. Red light sprang off it and Zylas took form beside the table.
I sighed. “What have I told you about popping out whenever you think I’m alone?”