Page 37 of This Dark Descent
“And ethereal enchantments?” she asked. “Why are they more difficult?”
“Because it’s easy to come up with an association for strength. But what about for never getting lost, or sensing danger? They’re far less concrete concepts. That’s probably why the spell works sometimes and not others. If a charm for danger doesn’t contain a clear idea of what danger is, the charmed object won’t either.”
Ari stepped up to the horse, already running through associations in her mind. For speed, she thought of Mikira flying down the track on Eilora’s back, and for agility, she pictured Widget on Reid’s shoulder. For endurance, she thought of herself, toiling endlessly on her golems.
As she spoke the binding spell for the physical enchantments, she focused on the warm thrum of dormant magic in the clay, weaving it through the powdered emerald packed inside. She kept each of the ideas at the forefrontof her mind, letting her intent shape the magic first into a speed charm, then one of agility, and then endurance.
“Impressive,” Shira said when she’d finished. “I can feel the spells in the clay. They’re strong. Do you want me to do the ethereal ones?”
You don’t need her, whispered the voice.You can do this yourself.
Was it her imagination, or was it louder than before? A twinge permeated the edges of her mind, threatening to grow into a full-blown headache. But the voice was right—shecoulddo this herself, and more than that, she wanted to.
“I can do it,” she replied.
Shira looked like she wanted to argue, but Ari had already shut her eyes to concentrate. What did she associate with never getting lost?
Home.
She thought of her family’s small house on the edge of the town edah. Of the colorful walls and the too-small kitchen. She conjured up the scent of garlic and onions sizzling in oil that filled the house when her mother cooked, the sound of her Saba’s voice.
The binding spell slipped through her lips and into the clay, locking the magic in place. Now only the danger charm remained. She thought of the feeling of when those men broke into her workroom, of the sense she’d had that no matter what she gave them, it would not be enough. Then she thought of the safety she’d felt the last few weeks, sitting by the fire surrounded by books, with Damien, Reid, and Mikira, and she carried both sentiments with her into the spell.
It slid seamlessly into the clay, locking into place with an ease she hadn’t felt with the coin. By the time she finished, her stomach growled with hunger and her head ached as it often did after performing magic. She’d long ago learned that though the magic was not the cause of the headaches, it was one of several triggers, and she often didn’t know when one would spring upon her.
Well done, praised the voice, and Ari shivered.
Shira placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You should rest. That was a lot of magic.” But it wasn’t just concern that Ari saw in her eyes. There was something else there. Something she couldn’t place.
“It’s remarkable.”
Ari spun at Damien’s voice. “You’re back,” she said, an undercurrent of excitement in her voice that surprised them both. Without thinking, she took his hand, pulling him around so they faced the beast head-on. When he didn’t let go, she let her fingers curl about his. Shira looked between them, her face inscrutable.
Reid joined them on Ari’s other side. “Now what?”
“Now stand here and don’t move.” Ari released Damien’s hand and darted to her satchel on the desk, where she withdrew the spellbook. It hummed welcomingly in her hands, and she had the distinct feeling that it was glad to see her.
“Ari.” Shira eyed the spellbook uneasily. “I don’t think you should attempt this until the morning.”
Ignore her, the voice growled.
“I’ll be fine. The golem needs time to adjust before Mikira rides it tomorrow.” Even as she said it, her nerves rose. Working enchantments in front of someone else was one thing; bringing a golem to life was another. It was at once an intensely personal experience and an entirely horrifying one, because each time she spoke the words, she thought of that night with Saba, when everything went so terribly wrong.
Blood on her hands. Blood on the walls.
Taking a deep breath, she locked away her fear and flipped open to the marked page. She began to circle the horse, reciting a string of Kinnish as she went. Light flowed from her lips, swirling and dancing in wisps, before vanishing into the horse’s clay forehead. The beast began to radiate, bright as a full moon.
Ari spoke faster, louder, and the light grew brighter, wisping off of her like rising steam. The magic filled her in a rush, and she met Damien’s gazeover the back of the horse. There was a look in his eye that spoke to her, as if he longed to reach out and touch her, to see if the heat that blazed in her eyes also burned beneath her skin.
“What in the four hells?” Reid whispered.
In a flash of power, the light rippled along the horse’s form, turning clay to flesh and bone, hair and hooves, like a fabric turned inside out to reveal a new pattern. The horse snorted, the last wisps of light dissipating with its breath.
Black as ink, its coat lustrous and radiant, the horse held itself like the steed of a conqueror, its depthless gaze surveying them all.
Ari couldn’t tell if her heart was thundering from the expenditure of magic or from the way Damien was looking at her, as though he’d discovered a rare jewel nestled among a pile of coals.
She held his gaze as she said, “Lady and gentlemen, I give you Atara.”
