Did you know ship furniture is literally nailed to the floor? I didn’t. You learn something every day.

As I walked the halls of the ship with my newly dubbed “Magic P.K.E. Meter” I noticed the ship was subdued. There were fewer people out, and those that were didn’t seem to have their party spirit anymore. I would hazard a guess that many of the ships passengers would be flying home from Hawaii rather than staying for the second leg of the trip. I didn’t blame them. Hell, now that I think about it, that sounds like a good idea.

The table leg had a flat side on the back, which was the side I had inscribed my spells on. They reacted to strong aura. The three symbols that looked like concentric circles lit up and told me different things. The outside circle lit up when I got closer and went dark when I moved further away. The second circle lit up when the leg was level with the source of the aura. Since this had been a problem in the past, I had set that part of the spell to consider anything within 5 feet level, so I didn’t have to touch the leg to the floor or walls to constantly check what surface the spell was on. The final, inner circle, gradually increased in radiance as I drew closer to the source of the magic.

After a careful check of every passenger deck I was sure the source was near the back of the ship, but unfortunately it was still below where only crew were allowed to go.

I stood, the magic stick held limply in my left hand while my right scratched my jaw in thought. My beard was coming along nicely, but it was still in that itchy stage new beards have. Scratching it felt nice and—I hope—made me look less suspicious as I studied the “Crew Only” door.

I could get through it rather easily, of that I was not worried. After all, I routinely kidnapped people. Breaking and entering was old hat by now. Wow, did that sound bad. What I mean to say is that even without my normal tools, a door is not an obstacle for me. No, what gave me pause was the growing concern that the practitioner onboard was a member of the crew, and what magical defenses, if any, were around.

Theoretically, if there were wards or other magical shenanigans placed around the ship, my little PKE stick should be reacting to the aura as I got closer. Unfortunately, a magical defense you could sense with a few simple spells slapped onto a convenient piece of wood wouldn’t be worth a truck full of dead rats in a dildo factory, so most defensive wards and spells had built-in countermeasures against detection.

I was reasonably sure there wouldn’t be too many overt defenses, however—or any at all. The main reason I used attention wards was because they were mostly benign; the worst thing they could do to you was give you a slight headache if you ignored their effects. They were also nearly impossible to detect unless you knew they were there. I had also placed them in a location where only I was likely to go, barring someone entering my cabin illicitly.

The more specific you made a ward, the more efficient it would be to it’s purpose—but it’s use of power also grew more inefficient. It was a similar problem that you had when you made a rocket for space flight. You needed enough fuel to get the mass of the rocket to space, but the more fuel you added, the more weight you added to the rocket, thus increasing the amount of fuel you needed. This is such a pain in the ass the equation to figure this out is referred to as The Tyranny of the Rocket Equation.

You get a similar problem with wards that get more and more specific in purpose. If you build a ward that is supposed to stop all but one person from entering, that’s a simple set of instructions. If you build a ward that allows you and any crew member to pass, that’s adding another layer. But then you have to identify what a crew member is to the spell. Each layer or qualifying instruction in the ward adds another layer of feedback.

In a traditional environment, like a home or a castle (I learned this shit from super old books), you identify people who were allowed past the wards by giving them magical keys. These can be special tattoos, temporary enchantments cast directly on them or physical keys that the wards recognize the shape of.

This also makes the ward take a lot longer to implement, as not only do you have to make sure the thing works as intended, but each instruction in the wards behavior has to be built into the ward and painstakingly incorporated into the whole design so as not to disrupt the flow of power through the symbols.

So I’m reasonably sure there’s no defensive wards on the door as my senses and my magic stick weren’t picking up any aura nearby.

But that didn’t account for mundane obstacles, like being yelled at by crew for being in crew only areas. There was nothing for it but to maintain an attention spell over myself. It was basically an attention ward, except I had to hold the shape of the spell in my mind and continually cast it. Luckily I was wearing my only pair of black slacks today and another button-up shirt that was vaguely similar to the uniform of the crew, so that’d help me blend into the background. My orange crocs would stand out, but so would going barefoot. No help for it.

I formed the spell in my mind, said the Old Norse phrase that would stand in for some of the runes I’d normally draw and felt the world around me become… kinda boring.

The reason I prefer wards to actual spell casting is that casting spells directly has a bit of feedback. You are harnessing reality warping energies, after all, and doing so directly in your mind is dangerous. Most of the grimoires and spell books I’ve studied speak of a codified level of mental mastery and training but I have yet to find anything on, you know, how to do that so I’ve had to muddle through on my own.

The feedback of the attention spell (I really should come up with a better name for it. The Greek book I learned it from had called it the “Disappearing While Still Present” spell which, I think you’ll agree with me, is god awful.) gives is basically a muted effect of the spell itself. Instead of attention being pushed away from me, as the spell is doing for everyone else, I was finding it harder to focus on… anything, really.

But this isn’t my first rodeo. I took a deep breath, hardened my will past the enervating feedback of the spell and approached the crew door. It was locked, of course, but a quick spell from the Tome of Open Doors (you never guess what the book was about) disengaged the lock. I opened the door and slipped in.

You know, I don’t know what I was expecting, but plain, white hallway that looked like it might belong in the back of a restaurant wasn’t it. I walked along, with purpose, like I belonged. I passed a female crew member and she didn’t even look up from her phone. So far, so good.

There was a lot to navigate in the part of the ship reserved for the crew. There were kitchens (galleys?) where food for the guests were prepared, other kitchens where food was provided for the crew, crew quarters, rest areas, break rooms, utility closets and supply rooms. I ignored most of these places as my magic stick urged me lower and lower into the ship, towards the rear. I had a suspicion whatever I’d find would be located near or in the engine room.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Several times I thought I’d be found out as a rush of crew would head in my direction. My fear was unwarranted, however, as simply lowering my eyes and pushing myself to the side allowed all the crew to pass by without a glance in my direction. The closest I got to being caught was when one of the security guards frowned and looked like he was going to ask me a question, which is when I held up a finger and pretended to talk on my phone. The guard soon forgot about me.

Soon men in coveralls holding tools replaced black and white dressed crew and I knew I was getting closer to the engine rooms. The smell of solvents, grease and body odor replaced the smells of detergent, cleaners and deodorant. But as I grew closer to my destination—and I knew I was getting close as the third ring on my stick was getting fairly bright—I noticed less and less people.

I was in a small T intersection, looking at my stick. It indicated the source of the aura was down the middle path, toward the back of the ship where machines could be heard. I grew a little anxious. My paranoia sprang to the forefront of my mind and I turned and made sure there was nothing down the other hallways, ready to ambush me if I went down the middle path.

I found nothing, which I expected. I turned and went back to the intersection and again the wave of paranoia came over me. I should go back to my room and prepare some defenses—what?

Oh. OH!

I almost laughed.

There was an attention ward up ahead. Or maybe an irritation ward? It seemed to work on anxiety. Whatever it was, now that I knew it was there, I ignored my trepidation and walked down the hallway slowly. If they would put up one ward, they could easily put up another.

The small hallway ended in another T intersection. The path to my left led to a staircase going down, with a placard on the wall saying “Engine Room.” The hallway on my right led to a workshop. I paused to consult my magic stick and it was then I noticed the trip wire.

It wasn’t a physical trip wire. It was a ward drawn with white ink against the white wall, a basic alarm spell. It was done at chest height, which was a really non-optimal and amateur placement. Although, the white ink on white paint was a nice touch. I could barely see it. I took a minute or two to examine the rest of the surface around the hallway but didn’t see any other trip wires. Yeah, whoever put this here was rushed or didn’t do this often. If you put one of these up, you should put at least two. One at thigh height and one at belly, so it’d be harder to see and harder to jump over or crawl under. As it was, I squatted and bypassed the alarm.

I regarded the ward on the wall with a frown before looking at my magic stick. I waved it around to get a general sense of direction again and for the first time since I made it, it wasn’t conclusive where the aura was coming from. I walked to the stairs, watching the stick, and then back towards the workshop. It wasn’t until I got close to the workshop that I figured out what was going on.

There was a second aura down here.

The second aura was a lot less subtle and was a lot more… I guess “noisy,” would be the best word. If the first aura was a light rain you’d only notice if you were actively looking for it out your window, the second one was the neighbors kids playing in a plastic pool.

Well, I thought to myself. This is fine. Super fine. The finest.

I edged to the door at the end of the hall and slowly turned the handle. I peeked inside. Seemed like a break room, and I didn’t see anyone. I eased the door open fully and stepped in. Open entering, I realized it was less of a break room and more of a locker room. Lockers lined the right wall, previously hidden by the door, and there were a couple benches. Next to the lockers was a door labeled “Storage.” On the left side of the room was a counter with a coffee maker, a toaster and a microwave. Tucked into the corner were a couple of reading chairs. Also on my left was another door, with a sign saying “Employees entering without PPE will be provided with ill-fitting, pink PPE” written in sharpie.

I didn’t need the stick to sense aura anymore. It was practically oozing from the storage room. I slowly crossed and studied the door, lightly touching it with my senses. I couldn’t detect any wards so I leaned forward and listened.

“—with the man,” said the first voice.

“I’m not ‘infatuated,’” asserted the second voice. It was Alice. “And you have yet to answer my question.”

There was a brief pause. “No,” it said at length. “As far as I know, he has not killed any... humans.”

Alice let out a thunderous sigh. “Finally! Then why are you having me hex him? The terms of our agreement are explicit.”

I almost kicked in the door there. Being hexed required having something personal of mine, the more personal the better. Alice was the only person on the planet who had been in a position to take something of mine. I resisted the urge to run a hand through my hair to see if I could feel any missing.

“For his protection.”

What?

“What?” Alice asked.

“I can’t go into too many details,” the first voice went on. The more it spoke, the more my suspicion rose that I knew who it was. “Suffice to say that I came upon some intelligence that his life will be in danger soon, and thought to remove him from said danger.”

“By hexing him,” Alice deadpanned.

“Have you studied the hex?”

“Of course,” Alice responded. “I wouldn’t attempt to cast something without testing it first.”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” the first voice said, an edge of annoyance in her voice. “Allow me to elaborate; do you know what that hex does?”

Alice was slow in responding. “...I thought I did.”

“Not all hexes are harmful,” the first voice explained. “The one I supplied will simply put him into a coma for six months. Completely harmless so long as he is moved from where he drops to a safe location.”

It took all of my willpower not to burst through the door at that sentence. If I were to pass out for six months, my contract with Trix would default and my soul would be taken as collateral. That heinous bitch. If the first speaker is who I thought it was, it—well it didn’t make sense. I had clauses about this exact scenario set out in all my contracts.

“Seems like a lot of effort—as well as a violation of trust—to protect someone,” Alice said, her voice thick with suspicion.

“I may get something out of it too,” said the first voice, whom I now strongly suspect as being Axtrixxinizinia.

I couldn’t stop myself anymore. I managed to reign in my anger enough to slowly open the door and step into the room.

It was about the size of a modest bedroom, with rows of standing shelves. I could feel the magic coming from my left, down the last isle of shelves. I crossed the room to the last isle, seeing Alice standing in front of a motherly looking woman in the middle of a summoning circle. A summoning circle that looked very familiar. In fact, from my brief study of it, it looked like a complete copy of my summoning circle with one difference—the part that designated me as the author of the spell.

Trix looked up as I came into view, and I had the gratifying moment of actually seeing her look surprised. Alice noticed Trix’s expression and spun around, the words of a spell dying on her tongue as she spotted me.

I felt nothing from the circle, which is to be expected. I had designed it to be as efficient as possible and the by product of that is no aura seepage. No, the aura I felt came from the dodecahedron in Alice’s hand, about the size of a melon. I recognized it as a hex crucible, a magic item built with the sole purpose of firing hexes over long distances and through magical defenses. I had attempted to make one myself, once, but was stymied by its complexity. Either Alice was a much better magician than I was, or she had access to way more resources.

In her left hand was a lock of my hair.

She must have seen what I was feeling on my face, because her expression became an odd mix of abject embarrassment and fear.

I let the spell I’d been holding go and prepared half a dozen others in my mind. The lights began to dim, reacting to the energies I was emitting. Little electric arcs played over elements of the metal shelving. The lighting fixture directly above me went out with a “pop.” Before I could do anything with the spells, however, I took a deep breath and let the energies fade, suffering some feedback in my mind as buzzing and light pain.

I took another deep breath and shook the after effects of six aborted spells out of my head. “So,” I said after a moment. “Fancy meeting you here.”