Is Mightier

“So what are you planning to do now?” Anna asked.

“I will watch you have your trial. Once you are dealt with, I will quietly summon your replacement and continue the experiment anew.”

“Why do you summon us one at a time? Wouldn’t it be better to send many?”

“Even my magic has limits. I can only summon one guest at a time. As for sending many, I have done that. I have sent armies of the mundane; they were slain. Completely useless. I have sent groups of mages and witches in varying combinations of skill and specialty. No use. So I summoned someone who could cast only death magic, and to the most potent degree.” She gestured to Anna. “You failed. Now it is time to start over with someone else.”

“If you have no use for me, send me home.”

“I would if I could, but I cannot. I can write miracles, but I cannot undo them.”

“Write a miracle to send me home.”

“Miracles only work if nothing else is preexisting. There is already a way to return.” She paused to shake her head. “However, you cannot reasonably access it.”

“I would like the opportunity to try.”

“That is out of your hands, my dear. Making threats about killing all the nobles made you public enemy number one.”

“I was only thinking about it. I didn’t actually do it.”

“Tell that to them.” She shrugged. “Not that it matters. Magic is punishable by death already. The trial is just for show. There is only one outcome.”

Anna made no effort to hide her irritation. “What do you want?”

“Mostly… you, dead, by mundane means.”

“Why don’t you just kill me with magic?”

“Really,” she muttered with weary patience. “As you must be aware, using magic has a cost. Not to mention, it could accidentally draw attention to me. Why take a risk when the nobles will do it for me?”

“You said mostly earlier.”

“Oh.” She smiled widely. “I also want the stylus.”

The noblewoman reached for a hidden pocket inside the overgown’s lining, producing a small silver scroll case embellished with arcane filigree. Undoing a discreet clasp, she opened the case’s cap, revealing a padded black velvet interior. “Quite homey.”

Anna shifted her body protectively, turning her cloth pouch away from the woman. “What do you want with him?”

“It needs to be contained.”

“Why?”

“Because it is dangerous.”

Anna narrowed her eyes. “To whom?”

The striking woman seemed caught off guard by Anna’s skillful prying. Her smile faded.

“To all writers. It is vampiric. The more you touch it, the more it will cost you.”

“Somehow it feels like you are leaving something out,” Anna replied flatly.

“She is,” the stylus said, finally speaking up.

“There you are-” the noblewoman snarled. “You little knave.”

“What is she leaving out?”

“That I can kill her.”

“It can kill you too,” she warned Anna.

It was Anna’s turn to casually shrug, open-handed. “I slept on it for hours by accident. I’m still here.”

The noblewoman frowned deeply.

“She has been abusing magic for hundreds of years. I suspect even the slightest brush against me would kill her outright. Am I close? Huh?” the stylus needled angrily. “How close am I?”

The striking amber eyes glowed hot with rage.

“So what are you going to do now, Ms. Anna?” The noblewoman chose her words slowly, barely containing the fury within them. “Will you end the one who let the nobles know of your plot to kill them?”

Anna gave no response, letting the woman simmer in contempt.

“Will you try to throw it at me and reduce me to a pile of ash?”

Anna eyed the mundane bars separating them, shifting back, even farther out of reach. “You would like me to throw it, wouldn’t you?”

The noblewoman paused, waiting to see if Anna would do otherwise.

“I had hoped you would be more stupid.”

She held a hand near her lips, feigning a bored yawn. “Thankfully you will be dead soon enough. Then I will be able to collect it from your corpse and contain it. Again. Once and for all.”

“You had him put in the catacombs because you didn’t know what to do with him at the time.”

“Right again, Ms. Anna.” Her sculpted eyebrows arched. “For a dullard, you surprise me. Yes, I needed time to devise a proper way to seal it.” She shook the empty case in her hand. “Forever.”

She extended the case to the bars, slowly tapping it against them. “Say, help a girl out?”

“Why would you turn him into a stylus in the first place if he could kill you?”

“Not sure where you got that bad information.” She chuckled. “He turned himself into a weapon to kill me.”

“So a sword can’t kill you-” Anna arched one eyebrow. “…but a stylus can?”

“I can survive the mundane quite well.”

“Perhaps the stylus really is mightier than the sword.”

Anna cracked a slight smile.

The noblewoman’s expression fell. “I am not amused.”

As she rose to her feet, the shimmering silver stool winked out of existence. “I do not approve of this revelation, but another ‘Dementia’ spell will resolve that.”

“So you’re just going to wipe my mind?”

“I will try not to melt you into a slobbering fool, but the less you know, the better. You are a liability now.”

Anna looked at the woman’s hands. She held nothing to write with. “How can you spellcast without anyone catching you?”

She smirked with satisfaction.

“A good magician never reveals her secrets.”

“Now… try to resist it as much as you can. That way, maybe you will still know your own name when the spell is done with you.”

“You were the one who took my name.”

“Hah. Very bright for a dumb object.” She snapped her fingers. “I will wipe you both.”

Anna slowly brought her pall higher over her shoulders. “Please don’t,” she pleaded. “I’ve tried my best to help the realm. I did what I could. I didn’t hurt anyone. Please help me now.”

“Dear girl, life is unfair.” Swirls of shimmering silver script veined with tendrils of deep purple flowed in from the hallway, creating a vertical disk in front of the noblewoman. “Maybe you can still remember that.”

Anna closed her eyes and bowed her head.

“Prayer will not help you.”

“I don’t want to watch.”

“That is the second smartest thing you have said all night.”

Anna pulled the pall up over her head, forming a deep hood that hid most of her face.

The silver and purple flowed, a wide arcane sentence stretching out from the disk. It slipped through the bars as a continuous ribbon, approaching the hooded pall. Tucking up under the lip of the hood, it bifurcated and then suddenly stabbed itself up into Anna’s nose.

Anna yelped loudly and started to shudder violently, convulsing.

She trembled all over, her mind melting away.

After several violent spasms, she finally came to a stop.

“Anna?”

There was no response.

“Anna dear. Can you understand me?”

Anna responded with a quiet, wordless sound.

“Anna? You have a stick. I need it.” The noblewoman spoke slowly with careful pronunciation. “Do you understand?”

Anna shook her head repeatedly underneath the pall, making firm, wordless sounds of refusal.

“Come now,” the noblewoman cooed, reaching in through the bars, extending the scroll case and shaking it like a treat. “Stick please.”

Anna kept shaking her head, beginning to rock back and forth.

Dropping to her knees, the noblewoman pressed the case against the pall. “Give it! Now!”

Anna started crying loudly under the heavy velvet.

A deep voice called from down the hallway. “What is going on there?!”

The silver barrier in front of Clara’s cell instantly faded.

The noblewoman stood, pocketing the scroll case. She turned to face the voice. “Nothing. I was trying to give her a cup of water.”

Clara stirred. “What is going on?” she asked sleepily.

Anna continued to rock in place, staying safe beneath the heavy pall, humming loudly to herself.

“Leave her alone!” shouted Clayton.

Clara came fully to, her eyes widening at the sight across from her.

“Anna?! Are you okay?!”

The jailer arrived with rapid, heavy footfalls. “Your Grace, I must ask you to leave.” His voice hesitated. “I would rather not report that you were attempting to influence the accused.”

The noblewoman stared at him. She then turned to Clara. “My apologies for disturbing you both. I will take my leave.”

“I will show you out, Your Grace.”

As the two departed down the hall, Clara called to Anna. “Anna, what’s wrong?”

Anna did not respond beyond rocking in place.

“What did you do to her!?” Clara demanded, trying to rise abruptly. With only one hand, it took far too long to get to her feet.

The sound of a heavy door opening and then closing echoed down the hall. Clara gripped an iron bar in front of her, deeply frustrated that she had not gotten an answer.

“Anna,” she called softly. “Please be okay.”

Still no response.

“What did they do to Anna?” Clayton asked.

“I-I do not know,” Clara replied, her voice catching. “Did you see or hear anything?”

“No, I did not. Not until the woman said she tried to give Anna some water.”

“Did they poison her?!”

The shuffling footsteps of someone returning up the hall grew closer.

“Jailer, they did something to her!” Clara called out.

“Not on my watch,” he replied with a growl. He continued directly past Clara’s cell door, saying nothing more, his footsteps fading away before disappearing behind the sound of another heavy door closing.

“Anna.” Clara slowly sank to her knees, forlorn.

“Gone?” The voice was barely audible but distinct.

“Anna?!”

“Shh,” Anna replied, the pall still over her head.

“What is going on?” Clara asked pointedly, keeping her voice low.

“We had a visitor.” Anna pulled the pall down. “Now we need a plan.”