The Soul of Sorcery
by Alex F. FaylePerla never entered her house without checking for traps. The scar tissue that ran down the right side of her body from forehead to ankle reminded her every day, so with a practiced flip of her cane she unlatched and opened the door to her cottage. The smell of burnt sugar wafted out. Peering inside without crossing the threshold, she saw that the main room of the house glistened as if covered with ice.
She pointed her cane at a patch of snow and melted it to reveal a few twigs. A quick movement of her cane caused three of them to rise from the ground and hover in front of her. She then pulled nine long grey hairs out of her head. One by one they snaked out of her hand and twisted themselves around the twigs, creating a stick figure. She gave it life, lowered it to the doorstep and watched it wobble inside on uneven legs. As soon as it passed the doorway, it fell down, squirming like a fly in honey. She said a few more words and the figure stopped moving.
"I'm seventy-nine years old," she muttered at it. "Can't people wait for the Fates to take me naturally?"
The glistening covered the entire house and all the furniture. Wasteful, she thought. The trap could have been set on the door frame, or even on a few tiles inside the door. To fill the entire inside of the house was the easy way. The other attempts on her life had always been much more elegant, and much closer to being effective.
If Perla had her way, this sort of thing would never happen. She would set up protection spells, if it were permitted. But sorcerers weren't supposed to did that. Anyone who created such safeguards was paranoid or evil and exiled from their communities. Perla liked it here and didn't want to have to find another new home.
She crouched down to study the tiles, careful not to touch anything. She couldn't read who had cast the spell, but maybe she could figure out a way to neutralize it and save her cottage. A moment's study, however, revealed that the person had completely transformed the inside of Perla's house, leaving her with only one option.
She had to burn everything inside the stone walls.
The roof exploded in flames and the accumulated snow evaporated in a cloud of steam. The wooden rafters turned to charcoal in moments. Her indignation strengthened the flames, making them hot enough to crack the floor tiles and soften the stone walls. The cottage slumped on its foundation, the smoke and noise drawing other members of the community.
Julio arrived first, and asked how he could help.
"Just stay back," Perla said. "And be ready in case things get out of hand."
Clara arrived next. "What does she think she's doing? Has she gone senile?" she asked Julio.
"She's only eight years older than you and I are, Clara," Julio said. "If Perla is burning down her own house, she has a good reason."
Perla responded to Clara's insult by letting a burst of flames explode out the front door, singeing all three of them. Clara screeched and jumped back. The flames rose higher out of the top of the house.
"Fine, let it burn then - and her with it," Clara huffed and left.
Julio stayed, his calm presence keeping the flames under control.
"This reminds me of when we met," Julio said.
"We never burned a house down."
"No, only a forest."
The fire felt her control slip and tried to escape. It yearned to melt the layer of snow around the house and get at the dry mountain grasses, but with Julio's help they finished burning down the house and put out the fire. Perla examined the ruins for signs of the trap.
Nothing.
It was gone, along with everything from Perla's life.
"What happened?" Julio asked.
"Someone wants me dead."
"Again?"
They collected Clara, then went next to Esteben's cottage. The shutters were open to catch the sun and the voice of the priest from the village at the bottom of the mountain floated out.
"Yes, Lina, all life is divine. When the Gods created life, they did so by giving of themselves. Every living thing from plants to people is a piece of the divine."
"So why doesn't the church still practice sacrifice?" Esteben asked. "Isn't that a more sure way of connecting to the divine?"
"Primitive man believed that to reach the Gods, they had to release the soul of an animal. The soul would draw the Gods and communion would happen, but the church no longer believes sacrifice is necessary. The Gods do not need death to hear our prayers."
Perla walked into the cottage, Julio and Clara following her in. All three of the community's other sorcerers were there, Esteben, Lina and Rocio. Silence fell as they all stared at the newcomers' blackened clothes and faces.
"What happened?" Rocio asked.
"One of you tried to kill me," Perla said.
From where she sat, Lina waved her hands, pushing little breezes at Perla, looking for ways to soothe the burns. Perla batted them away from her.
"How do you know one of us did it?" Esteben asked. "Maybe someone from your old community followed you."
Everyone's gaze went to the scars on Perla's face.
"The people responsible for those attacks are dead," she said. "And no one else would dare follow."
The priest stood and made his way to the door.
"I'll leave you now," he said. "This is an internal matter, the less of which I know about, the better I think."
Perla wondered why he had been there in the first place. Most sorcerers didn't care about their souls, so why should the priest?
"So which one of you did this?" she asked once he had left.
Clara laughed. "If one of us did try to kill you, do you think we would admit it?" she asked. "I think your mind has cracked and you burnt your house down for no reason."
"You question my ability to detect a spell?"
"Not at all," Esteben said. "We all experiment with spells in our houses instead of in the Practorium or on the mountain. Perhaps one of your own spells caused the problem."
"I almost killed one of the cats with a stray piece of lightning once," Lina said.
"I don't take stupid risks like that," Perla said, adding anymore silently.
"Some spells work better in secret," Esteben suggested.
"Believe me, secret research leads to no good," Perla told him.
Julio touched his hand to Perla's back. She leaned into it, glad for his support.
"Isn't there some spell to determine guilt or innocence?" Rocio asked.
"Unfortunately, no," Julio said, "or we'd all be wealthy judges. But Perla, the priest was here today too. Maybe he did it."
"But he's a priest!" Lina said. "And he's far too young to know sorcery."
"The young can learn magic," Julio said. "It's just very dangerous for them."
"Why would you suspect the priest?" she asked, keeping the subject focused on the priest.
"He shows too much interest in our souls," Julio said, echoing Perla's earlier thought. "And the church has never liked sorcerers. We're too independent. "
"So what do we do?" Lina asked.
"Be on guard," Perla said, "and don't trust anyone."
She left, not looking back. No one followed her.
Perla spent a cold and uncomfortable night in the Practorium's loft, wrapped up in protection spells - tradition be damned; she wasn't about to risk her life on tradition.
The next morning, she decided to visit Clara. The woman's dislike of Perla made her a suspect and she certainly was lazy enough to perform that sloppy spell on Perla's house, yet Perla couldn't think of a motive.
Sometimes people died from because of a sorcerer's experiments - Perla's scars throbbed slightly - but the trap had been too malevolent to be an experiment. Besides, Clara never bothered trying out new things. The magic she practiced focused on making her life easier, and that didn't include trapping and killing people.
Approaching Clara's cottage, Perla saw the door standing open, snow beginning to drift in. Hoping that Clara was just being stupid and not dead, Perla called out to the woman.
"Clara!"
Clara lay on a meditation mat just inside the house, not moving. Perla got close enough to smell a mix of blood, urine and feces, and knew Clara was dead. Blood congealed around her, and a thin stake stuck out of her chest. Perla felt her breakfast rise in her throat, but she pushed it back down. She'd seen death before. A person didn't get to her age without seeing death far too many times.
Peering at the floor, she wondered if it was safe to enter. The tiles looked frosted, and she detected the smell of sugar under the smells of Clara's body. That spell again. They would have to destroy this house now, too.
"Completely wasteful," she said out loud, and sent a screaming flare to rise above the house to draw the others.
Perla tried to call Clara's body to her, but the woman had been stuck to the mat. The mat, however, wasn't stuck to the floor, so she called it out to her, carrying Clara with it. Careful not to touch anything, Perla leaned over to examine the stake in Clara's heart. She peered at the stake. It was hollow, but empty of blood. Perla made herself look at Clara's face. By the rigid features of her face, Clara had been aware and in a lot of pain as she died.
Esteben appeared at Perla's side panting from the run, his breath steaming in the cold.
"Is she dead?
"Yes, but I have no idea why. I do, however, know that this thing is magic," Perla said, indicating the stake. "Do you recognize it?"
"Not at all," Esteben said after studying the hollow piece of wood for a moment. "Looks like some sort of ritual."
"That's what I'm thinking," Perla said. "Don't touch it, Clara, or the mat. They have all been affected by the same binding spell that the murderer set in my house."
She leaned on her cane to push herself back up, knees popping.
"Where were you, by the way?" she added. "You arrived quickly enough."
"Out walking," he said.
"Hmm. And the rest are probably alone as well."
"As usual."
"Any one of us could have done this," Perla said.
"Including you," Esteben said.
"Yes, including me."
They didn't hold Clara's funeral at the church, and they wouldn't bury her in the graveyard. Too many people felt that a sorceress' finger or even skull would bring them good luck. Like all who had lived and died at the retreat, Clara would be cremated, her ashes scattered over the terraced gardens, keeping her within the community forever. The only outside person at the service was the priest.
"The Gods act as the Fates dictate. The Fates choose our beginning and our end. The Gods witness both. We live to show the Gods that from beginning to end we have bettered our lives and the lives of those around us. The Gods absorb the soul and are enriched or diminished by it.
"The Gods ask: What type of life did Clara lead? Did she enrich or diminish the divine? But we are not the Gods and we cannot answer these questions. We can only ask ourselves what Clara did to better our lives. Let us pause to remember who Clara was to us."
Perla didn't spend much time thinking about Clara. She wouldn't miss her, but the woman hadn't deserved murder.
"I will now ask Clara's companions to step forward," the priest said, "to complete the process started by her death. Return her body to the earth as her soul has returned to the Gods."
The five sorcerers stepped forward and set Clara's corpse ablaze. Julio's anger burned so hot the snow around him melted. He hated the church and what he called its false rituals that held no power. Esteben looked like he wanted to throw up, Lina cried openly, and Rocio showed no emotion at all.
Perla still had no idea who had tried to trap her and had killed Clara. As the five of them joined together to reduce Clara's body to ashes, Perla had hoped she would feel something, a malignant presence or feelings of guilt or even triumph, but she perceived nothing except a general air of sorrow and coldness.
Once they had reduced the body to ashes, the priest said some final words and Lina called up a breeze to lift and distribute Clara's remains over the whole retreat. The priest turned to the sorcerers as Lina finished.
"Clara's death reminds us to examine our own lives. How does your life enrich the Gods?" He blessed the community and left.
"Did you hear that?" Julio asked. "He hates us!"
"What are you talking about?" Esteben asked.
"The priest. He obviously thought Clara hadn't done anything with her life."
"Did she?" Perla countered.
"Perla!" Lina said. "Of course she did. Everyone does."
"Including the murderer?" Perla asked.
No one answered.
"I don't trust that priest," Julio said after a moment. "I've heard talk about whether what we do goes too far, whether we are trying to take on the role of the Gods or the Fates."
"Ridiculous," Perla said. "We are merely human."
"I agree, but if those in the church believe as Julio says," Rocio said, "then sorcery could become anathema to the church's teachings."
"Exactly, and we become the church's enemies," Julio said.
"But why would a priest kill anyone?" Lina asked.
"I wouldn't dismiss the priest just because he's a priest," Perla said. "People do horrible things to each other all the time. Esteben, what do you think?"
"We need to be sure that it's not him before we start accusing each other."
"You're right," Perla said. "I'll visit him tomorrow. Julio, will you go with me?" Julio nodded. "Good. And in the meantime, we all need to be more careful. Now, who's going to help me destroy Clara's house?"
Perla woke up when her protection spell buzzed in her ear, telling her that someone had entered the Practorium.
"Hello?" she called out, but no one answered.
Perla looked down from the balcony. A small tablet lay on one of the worktables. She held her hand over the balcony railing and called it up to her. In Julio's handwriting, it read: Can't face the priest yet. Going to meditate.
Poor Julio. He could help keep others calm, but couldn't deal with his own anger. She considered asking someone else, but decided she would prefer to go on her own.
Julio's mention of meditation stuck in Perla's head and she used the hour walk down the mountain to center herself. She cleared her mind of everything and let the ground guide her feet. By the time she had reached the village she felt stronger, younger. She loved living here and wished she had made the move decades ago. The mountains were colder than the plains of her homeland, but she needed that coldness to control the fires within her.
Perla let herself into the church and went looking for the priest. She found him sitting at a desk on the balcony overlooking the altar.
"Do you believe the Fates truly do decide our ending?" she asked him without preamble. "Could They lead a person to murder?"
The priest jumped, the pen in his hand sliding across the parchment.
"Perla!" he said, soaking up the ink spot with a blotter. "I've been asking myself the same questions. The church says that the Fates know the birth and death of every living thing, but they do not guide anyone."
"The Gods do that?"
"Of course they don't. When they made the world, they created the Fates to keep themselves uninvolved. The Gods are observers only."
"And what of sorcery?"
The priest stood up and took a step towards Perla. She stepped back, but he went past her to a bookshelf on the back wall. He pulled out a book and showed it to her.
"This is a new book, Sorcery and the Soul. It's led to interesting conversations with the others."
"What does it say?" she asked.
"That to practice sorcery is to touch the divine."
"Is that a good thing?"
"As long as you don't go too far."
"Which is?"
"I'm not sure," he replied. "This is why I enjoy speaking with your fellow sorcerers."
"I don't need to discuss the limits of sorcery," Perla said. "I know how much is too far."
"Then please tell me. What is too far?"
"Practicing magic without thinking of others, doing spells that endanger not just yourself, but those around you, to the point of causing death."
The priest sat down, putting the book on the desk.
"The church has no official position on sorcery."
This was going nowhere. Perla wished Julio had come with her. He would have known how to interrogate the priest better.
She made her goodbyes and left. She ate lunch in the village and spoke with some of the merchants she knew. She rarely made it down to the village as the two communities, magic and mundane, had almost nothing to do with each other. She didn't stay long.
She made her way up the mountain, the return walk taking twice the time.
When she reached the retreat she called on Julio. It was getting dark and the frost was beginning to settle in for the night. He wasn't there, and his empty house worried her. She went over to Rocio's, who lived nearest to Julio. Lina was with her, their discomfort at Perla's interruption of their conversation obvious. Neither of them had seen Julio, but they offered to go with Perla to ask Esteben.
Esteben lived in a house surrounded by trees. Perla could feel the protection spells he'd recently added. Finally, someone's taking this seriously, Perla thought. He appeared at the door as soon as they entered the clearing around the cottage.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"No one's seen Julio," Perla said.
"I saw him earlier today," Esteben said, "around midday, walking down the mountain. I was surprised not to see you with him, Perla."
"He had left me a note telling me to go alone. So where did he go? I was with the priest until an hour into the afternoon. Julio never arrived."
Esteben invited them inside to discuss it.
Perla noticed that smell again, the odor of burnt sugar.
"Anyone hungry? I have a chicken and some yams roasting on the fire," Esteben said. "There should be enough for everyone."
"Ah, that's it," Perla said out loud.
"What? Esteben asked.
"The burnt sugar smell."
She met Esteben's gaze, but saw no recognition of guilt there.
While they waited for the food to cook, Perla described her conversation with the priest. Esteben wanted to go down to the church right away.
"You're only in your fifties, Esteben," Perla said, "and you might make it down the mountain in the dark, but in this cold, I'd kill myself for certain. We need to wait until morning."
"Let's stay here, together," Lina suggested. "It feels safer."
They all agreed.
"You've all read the book," Perla said as they ate dinner. "Do you believe sorcery is divine?"
"I don't see why not," Esteben said. "With the power we have, how can a sorcerer's soul not be better connected to the divine?"
"So we're one step closer to the Gods than everyone else?"
"No, we're merely human, as you put it, Perla," Rocio said. "Esteben and I disagree on this. He thinks that sorcerers and priests have more developed souls than the rest of the world, that the Gods are especially enriched by our souls."
"And you, Lina?"
"All I know is that when I'm on the top of the mountain with the wind and the sun, I can almost feel the Gods watching me."
"So why would the priest want to kill us?" Perla asked.
"Why did you kill, Perla?" Esteben asked.
Everyone stopped eating.
"I have never killed anyone," Perla said, forcing her voice to remain calm.
"But your great-grandson?" Esteben said "The villagers? Your daughter? Your son-in-law? You didn't kill any of them?"
"I did not kill anyone," Perla repeated. "The villagers are all still alive as far as I know, and my daughter and her husband killed themselves after nearly killing me."
"Because you killed your great-grandson?" Lina asked.
" He was a talented boy and I wanted to see if a child could learn sorcery."
"An experiment," Rocio said. Perla could feel the woman's disgust. Being newer to the community than Perla, Rocio hadn't known this. It surprised Perla that no one had ever told her about it.
"That kind of guilt could turn to hatred for all sorcery and sorcerers," Esteben said.
"Sorcery makes us all mad eventually," Perla answered.
"Or the priest could have done it," Esteben said.
"If he believes we are trying to usurp the Gods - " Rocio started.
" - then he could see it as his duty to kill us," Lina finished for her.
Esteben's face twisted and he put his hand over his heart.
"Something wrong, Esteben?" Perla asked.
"I'm just remembering Clara. So senseless. What use was her soul to the Gods?"
"The Gods don't use souls like I use my cane," Perla said. "The Gods simply witness death."
"Too bad we can't ask the Gods who killed her," Rocio added.
"So every death is known? The Gods are there for every death? Even murders?" Esteben asked.
"They are either there for every death or there for none," Perla said. "You can't pick and choose when the Gods will show up."
Esteben looked like he was going to argue more but didn't.
Perla knew that no one would sleep much, but they did leave off the debate. She settled herself into her chair and stared at the fire. If Julio was dead, his murderer was going to burn.
The church doors were still locked for the night when they arrived just after dawn. Lina reached the doors first and opened them by manipulating the air inside the lock.
"Something feels wrong," she said as soon as they entered.
"It feels like death," Rocio said.
Perla agreed. The air felt different from yesterday.
"I'll get the priest," Esteben said.
"I'll go with you," Rocio said, "and Lina, you go with Perla."
"Let's find Julio," Perla said. We are all assuming it's Julio's death, but maybe the priest is dead instead, Perla tried to tell herself.
Esteben and Rocio went off towards the priest's quarters, while Lina and Perla followed the scent of death to the altar. Lina pointed down at a gap in the floor.
"I feel air here. The smell comes from down there."
Perla studied the pattern on the floor and saw that the mosaic led into the side of the altar, right to a small representation of one of the Fates. She pushed at it with the tip of her cane. The tiles where Lina stood began to shift. She scrambled back as a section of the floor dropped, turning into a narrow ramp leading down to a small room under the altar.
The murderer had pinned Julio's body to the wall. Blood and urine had soaked his clothes and pooled on the floor. A hollow stake similar to the one Perla had found in Clara stuck out of his chest.
"There's no other wound," Lina said. "It must have taken a long time for him to die."
"Let's get him down," Perla said.
Fire burned deep inside, wanting to exact revenge, to burn down the entire church. She kept it under control, forcing herself to study the spell that stuck Julio to the wall like a fly in a spider's web. Whoever had put it there had improved their work since ruining Perla's and Clara's houses. The spell sat on top of the stones instead of transforming them, but it still smelled of burnt sugar. As Perla removed the spell, Lina caught and lowered the body to the ground.
Perla took a moment to kiss Julio's lips. She tried to think of something to say, but nothing came.
In the church above, Esteben called their names.
"Down here," Lisa said. They climbed the ramp, Lina using breezes to pull Julio's body up behind her.
Esteben had the priest pressed against the altar.
"Do you hate all sorcerers that much?" Esteben asked when Julio's body appeared. "Are you the first attack in a war by the church?"
"What is the hollow stake for?" Perla asked.
Esteben pulled it out of Julio's chest.
"Isn't it obvious?" Esteben asked. "He was releasing the soul. It's how priests in the past communed with Gods, letting the soul of the animal out bit by bit."
"But the church doesn't practice sacrifice!" the priest protested.
"What do we do now?" Lina asked.
"We execute him," Esteben said. "It's our right."
"No, it's not," Perla said. "If he were a member of our community then yes, we would have the right to exact justice. But he is a member of the church. We must inform his superiors. We'll bind him and keep him here until church officials arrive."
"Let's bind him in the room he killed Julio in," Esteben said.
"Under the altar?" Rocio asked. "Something tells me that's a bad idea. Lina and I will find a way to contact his superiors. You two take him to his room and bind him there."
When Esteben and Perla got to the priest's bedroom, Esteben threw the man on the bed. Perla waved her cane in the air and the priest rolled onto his back, legs and arms spread wide. Esteben made a net out his fingers and blew through it, trapping the priest on the bed. The room filled with the smell of burnt sugar and Perla could no longer excuse it.
"So it was you." She wanted to attack Esteben, to avenge Julio's death. The fire she'd used to burn her own house down tried to flare back into existence, and her whole body flushed with heat. Making a show of being nonchalant, she untied her cloak and took it off. Without Julio's support at keeping the flames under control, she was afraid she'd turn the whole village into an inferno.
Esteben made the linked hand gesture at Perla and blew through his fingers. Nothing happened. Perla draped her cloak over the end of the bed.
"I've studied your spell three times and have seen you use it just now. Easy enough to counter, though you've gotten much better with it. It must be all the practice, although I am curious to know why it creates that scent."
Esteben tried again but Perla ignored him.
"You're trying to absorb the souls of others, aren't you? Why?"
"Because I'm divine," he said. "The only thing that separates me from the Gods is consuming a soul. Once I do that, I will be a God."
"The Gods exist outside our world," Perla said. "You'll fail. You failed with Clara and you failed with Julio."
"I won't fail. You are stronger and older. That's why I wanted you first."
Esteben pulled the hollow stake out of his sleeve and threw it at Perla, aiming it straight for her heart. She attempted to knock it out of the way, but she only managed to slow it down. When she tried sidestepping, she discovered that her feet wouldn't move. Esteben had gotten past her defenses and had stuck her feet to the floor.
I used to be so much stronger, she thought. Age was taking its toll.
The hollow stake reached Perla's clothes. She wondered if she had the strength to keep it from penetrating the skin. And if I can't, how long until I die? she asked herself. Her skin burned hotter, the fires within demanding to be set free, to ignite the stake, Esteben, the priest and even Perla herself. She tried to think of the snow outside, but every image evaporated under the heat of her anger.
The priest shouted at Esteben to stop, but Esteben paid him no attention.
Then the door burst opened and Rocio and Lina ran into the room. They stepped up behind Perla and put their hands on her back, their strength flowing into her. Perla pushed it back.
The stake hung midair between her and Esteben.
"Stop it, Esteben," she said. "You will never be a God. You are just a murderer."
"Divinity comes with death," the priest said from the bed.
"I will be divine!" Esteben shouted.
"So be it," Perla said.
Using Lina's and Rocio's borrowed power, Perla let her anger loose. Esteben burst into flames. Perla shielded the room and turned the flames inward. Within seconds she had reduced Esteben to ashes. The stake dropped to the ground. Lina ripped her hand away from Perla, taking back her power in a rush. Rocio removed her own hand and power as well, though in a less jarring fashion.
"You killed him!" Lina gasped.
"What else could we have done?" Perla asked, trying not to sob.
"We gave him what he wanted," Rocio said. "His soul is now a part of the Gods. He is divine."
The priest sat up, released by Esteben's death. He said a few words over the remains.
"What will you do now?" he asked.
"We'll scatter his and Julio's remains over the community," Perla said, her voice only slightly shaky. She would cry later in private, where she could let down all her guards.
Lina fled the room. They watched her leave, and then Perla turned to Rocio.
"You thought it could have been me. You were outside the whole time." There was no rancor, no anger left in Perla's voice, just a statement of fact.
"We had to be sure."
"Of course you did," Perla said.
She picked up her cloak and followed Lina out of the room.
Lina sat on a stone bench outside the church, crying. Perla sat down beside her. She winced at the cold on her backside.
"We had to do it," she said.
Lina nodded.
"But why are we spreading his ashes over the community? I don't want that murderer with us."
"Sorcerers live outside the rest of the world, so it doesn't matter what you want. We are responsible for each other. So we had to kill Esteben, and likewise we have to accept his ashes. Sorcery binds us all. Unfortunately, it also makes us mad."
"Do you think all of us go crazy?"
"Do you know of a sane sorcerer?"
"Rocio?"
"She's new still. Give her time." Perla stood up. "Come. We need your help carrying Julio back home."
She offered Lina a hand, but Lina stood without help and walked into the church without waiting.
Perla wondered how long it would be before Lina started checking her house for traps.
©Alex F. Fayle
Alex F. Fayle is a Canadian writer, living and working in Spain's Basque Country. A former professional organizer, he hates the word "someday" and encourages everyone to purge it from their lives. His fiction has appeared in Arsenal Pulp Press' Quickies Vol 2 and University of Toronto literary journals. You can find his blog at somedaysyndrome.com.