I never was much for magery. Sure I could’ve become a mage, even when I lived with my nereid family, but I never wanted to spend the time studying.

Out riding the waves and exploring the seas on my hippocamps was all I needed.

Captain’s Log, Mayhem

Captain Fraser Connell

“Do you have women’s clothes stored on your ship?” She wouldn’t meet my gaze, and her tone was all business. Guess she was going to pretend it all never happened.

Doubtless for the best.

“There are some female crew who can perhaps loan you something.” I kept my voice neutral, even though I was anything but.

“Just glad we don’t have to waste the rest of the day, and I don’t have to spend the numin ‘porting to the keep and back. We do still have that assignment from Cassyrra.”

She primly tucked the end of the towel in and we were both aboard Mayhem in a few moments.

Yeah, right. Search for magic, practice magesight.

So much fun.

****

One of Mayhem’s female crew was Ozora’s size and offered a set of loose silk pants and tunic in vivid turquoise and cream. Once we were both clean, dry, and clothed, Ozora led us on a random search of the city. We wandered down alleys and along boulevards wherever we saw a numinous glow.

She had a way of making a game out of it. Silly as it was, it worked. The concentration it took to identify the different spells and casters erased the awkwardness of our kiss.

Soon, it was easy to identify each elder race from its own energetic or elemental signature. Wood elves, dryads, shapeshifters and more cast the spells we found.

Until this one. Stumped, I couldn’t place the caster.

“Hey, come look at this,” I called to her. It was later in the day, and practicing my new skill began to lose some shine. How easy it was to read the different magical signatures scattered around the city. Warding spells, glamours, as well as prayers and offerings to various deities, all glowed with numin. Once I learned the trick, it became simple to shift between regular vision and magesight.

This one was different, and it irritated me I’d not identified the caster.

The sigil wavered and flickered like it was drawn with silver flames and the energies radiating from it felt both hot and icy.

Painted on the brick wall of a tavern, right on the corner at about eye level, its energies would’ve ensnared any passerby.

“It’s … it’s like it’s blank.” I hesitated. That wasn’t quite it. “There’s no elemental or sylvan energies woven into it. I can’t tell who cast it.”

Ozora stood by my shoulder and peered at the wall.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Her nose wrinkled as she squinted, staring at the dainty, filigreed symbol. “Well, my own numin is similar, but that…feels ancient.” Ozora seldom sounded hesitant when she talked about magic.

Swirls, lines and dots formed a circle a couple of inches across, looking painted on with a brush. No denying it was a work of art. As if the artist applied varying pressure to produce thicker or thinner strokes of bright silver outlined in darker, gleaming grey.

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“Huh? What do you mean?” I shot her a questioning look.

“Human numin is unaligned. Like this. Not elemental, not sylvan. It can shape any sort of magic. Only high elves are similar. It’s what made them so devastating in the wars.”

“A history lesson too? I’m so lucky.”

She gave me a sharp side-eye, then tapped the brick. “It’s obviously not human, but … I don’t like the alternative.” She shook her head, as if trying to shake off her doubt. “The only other thing I can think of that would look like this is high elf magic.”

“Where are the high elves on the continent to cast it?” I wanted to laugh, but her look of concern as she stared at the sigil gave me pause. She was serious. “We stopped the invaders. They’re all dead. Remember?” Cassyrra and Taenya had flown sweeps for days after that night. “We know they’ll try again, but none of them survived the attack two weeks ago.”

Uncertainty clouded her brown eyes, turning them dull, but her chin and jaw tightened, resolute. “It can’t be anything else.” She insisted. “I don’t know how, but it’s the only explanation.”

“There’s got to be another reason. Cassyrra torched all their ships. Those high elves are fish food. None landed here.” I braced one hand to lean in close and study the circular design glowing on the wall. The silver flames seemed to call to me, a soft song promising blissful relief, peace, but underneath that, there was something else.

Just as alluring, just as seductive, it seemed to even know my name. I followed the numinous trail into the spell’s design, entranced by the intricacy.

SLAP!

My head rocked, smacking into a brick wall, and Ozora’s fists gripped the front of my shirt. I now faced the street, the wall of the tavern at my back and the sigil about four feet away. Looking at it triggered longing and nausea, its faint singing echoed still in my ears.

“Don’t do that again.” Her voice shook. “Still think it’s not high elvish?”

“I have no idea. What happened?” The last few moments were a blank. That Ozora could grab and haul me around without me even knowing was … well, I would’ve said impossible, except there she was leaning against me. I could feel her shaking, and now that was all I could think about.

“You started to walk towards the tavern’s door, saying something about ‘finding Kioc’ inside.” The lines of her thighs against mine, her forearms pressed into my chest. Hell, even the way her fists clutched my shirt drove any last thoughts of magery or high elves away. Her scent filled my breath. My hands came up to her hips.

She immediately let go, stepped back.

“What’s Kioc?” She asked, turning her head to glance at the sigil to again and hide the rush of color to her cheeks.

“Don’t know.” My head felt funny, and I scrubbed at my face. I pushed off from the wall and staggered. Ozora’s hand shot out to steady me, but instead of letting go, her fingers clenched on my arm.

Oh little mage, now all I can think about is you wet and soft against me in the waves.

The look of faint horror scrawled on her expression said Ozora’s intentions were far from seductive.

“Don’t move.” She breathed, her eyes wide and staring.

She wasn’t looking at me. Golden numinous sparkles danced in the depths of her eyes. She was looking at something on me. “Look at your shoulder.” She nodded to indicate my left shoulder, the one she’d grabbed.

A wispy copy of the sigil rested on the silk of my shirt. Tiny, I would’ve never noticed if Ozora hadn’t pointed it out. Faint silver flames burned, and threads of numinous smoke rose from where it rested on the black fabric.

I froze under her hand.

“Is it touching you?” Her voice was hard, brittle.

“I don’t think so. I don’t feel anything.” Her fingers relaxed, as did her expression.

“Good.” Was that relief I heard? “Hold absolutely still. You might feel this a little.”

Raising her other hand, she muttered and loosed a stream of numin from her fingertips. Bright golden light reached toward my shoulder, spanning the distance in a matter of seconds. It spun and twisted as it arched, forming a long thin funnel that widened as it neared my shirt.

Hovering there for a moment, the numinous funnel expanded, then dove for the sigil encompassing it entirely. I hissed, my skin burning as if touched by flame when it passed through my shirt with a crackling hiss.

Ozora muttered. The numin obeyed by snapping away from her fingers and forming a sphere, enveloping the sigil. The burning sensation grew.

I gritted my teeth and clenched my fist to keep from pulling away. “Is this going to sit there much longer?”

She frowned, pointed at my shoulder, and growled. “Kaitah ainkar!” With a snap of her fingers, the little ball of numin jumped off my arm, coming to a stop about a foot away from the sigil on the brick. “Oh no you don’t,” Ozora snarled and slapped the brick wall.

The ball vanished with a puff of golden smoke.

“Whew. That thing was nasty. Never have I seen a sigil do that.” She let go of my arm and shook out both hands.

“What was it doing?” I glanced down at my shirt. A perfect circular hole sat where the sigil once did. “Wait, not sure I want to know.” Lifting the sleeve showed a burn to match the circle on my shoulder.

“Burrowing into you, seeking your numin.” She shuddered, then tapped the wall, avoiding touching the silvery mark by several inches. “This is one for Cassyrra and Cleobah. Let’s head back.”

It was a long, quiet walk to the keep.

Cleobah was waiting for us in front of the gate.

Here on the east side facing into the city was a single, massive arched passage through the ten-foot-thick walls. The gates and portcullis were raised and a half-dozen of Mayhem’s crew stood guard. Cleobah sat in the roundabout before the gates.

“Have any luck?” The sphinx inquired, arching her dark gold brows. Her furred and feathered tail twitched, but it was her sly grin that said the sphinx already knew the answer.