Raiders of Magic

By Krysta Tawlks

Lora, my youngest, grinned as she lifted our dinner plates with a wispy sapphire spell. “Clean up time!” Her arms wobbled. “Ooh, heavy.”

“Papa!” Thorn, my oldest, leapt from his chair, his eyes on me. “Make her stop!”

“Lora, you know the rules.” I spoke gently, not wanting to shame my daughter for her newfound abilities. Having a magically-gifted child emerge in our ordinary family was puzzling—and inconvenient.

My oldest plucked his dishes from the whispering magical haze, and Lora tightened her fists. Glasses, plates, and bowls crashed to the floor, pieces scattering across the room.

“Papa, Thorn distracted me!”

“Lora.” The edge in my voice silenced her. She tucked her hands behind her back.

A breeze slipped through the door frame, bringing with it trace amounts of magic residue. I trapped a red spark between my fingers until it popped against my skin. Someone nearby was casting spells.

The raiders were hunting like they did every moonless night, but they were starting early tonight.

“To bed, now.” My grim voice pulled both children to attention. “Stay in your room. Door locked.”

Thorn was already on his way. Lora held her breath for a moment, fear tightening her mouth, then followed her brother. She knew the routine for every raid: latched windows, bolted doors, and no lights. In the past, those precautions made us feel safe. But now that my child had discovered her own magic, our ordinary home could attract break-ins, and raiders had the rare ability to steal that magic from her soul.

A cold sweat tickled the back of my neck as night leaned over my shoulder. Our home—doused in my daughter’s magic dust—glowed like a beacon for the raiders. I grabbed a gnarled broom from the closet—a dusty relic that had come with the house—and gathered crumbs and broken bits of dishes. Normally, magic cannot simply be swept away, but this was no ordinary broom.

I scraped the bristles against the remnants of Lora’s spell, the broom handle vibrating as the sapphire magic sheen faded with each stroke. I worked through the rest of the house, the broom purring and glowing.

Heavy footsteps banged on our porch. I clenched the broom and remained still. They would have to pry this house open—

A hoarse whisper tickled my ears—a curse. The hinges popped off the doorframe, and the door clattered against the floorboards.

I’d never seen a raider so close before. I’d only glimpsed them in the dark as they weaved past my window. This one strolled into the entryway with a smirk, her palms open, ready to cast more curses. She wore a scarlet jacket—a daring color for a lawbreaker living in the shadows—and surveyed the carefully swept room before pointing to my broom. “There it is! I’ll take that.”

“My… broom?” I stammered, my arms shaking.

“Don’t play dumb. Hand it over.” I hadn’t thought of it before, but it made sense that raiders would want to hide evidence of their crimes, especially with the bounties posted around town.

The raider’s hand brushed a bloated pouch fastened to her hip. The stolen magic dust dribbled from the pouch to the floor. “It hurts less if you give willingly.”

I was no match for her, so I tossed the broom over. “Take it.”

Now, please leave my home.

The raider gripped the broom and arched a brow. “It looks so ordinary.” She frowned.

Before I could respond, a smoky blue spell emerged from the hallway and threaded its way to the back of the raider’s head.

Lora.

The raider brushed the spell aside before it did any harm and swiveled toward my children’s bedrooms.

Fire roared in my belly. “Leave her!” I jumped forward but never reached the woman.

I didn’t need to. A sapphire stream—the color of my daughter’s spells—sparked out of my fingers, whipping the raider against the wall. I heard Lora squeak, and her door slammed shut.

Adrenaline raced through me as I examined my hands.

That was new.

The woman rolled to her side. Taking aim, she cast a scarlet spell that knocked me to my knees. The spell’s remnants lingered over my body before seeping underneath my skin. My heart quickened as the foreign spell crackled and tingled my chest. It was different from my daughter’s wispy spells—darker, angry. I clenched my arms and breathed slowly until the spell quieted under my control. I turned, and this time, a scarlet curse snaked out of my fingers and latched around the raider’s neck. She wasn’t smirking anymore.

“Please, stop!” The raider writhed, clawing at the magic wrapped around her neck. My grip was clumsy, but I held fast. “I didn’t know!”

“You didn’t know what? That I had magic?” I hadn’t known either, but I wasn’t about to tell her that. All this time I thought I just had a magic broom.

“No!” She sputtered, unable to break free of the curse. “I didn’t know you were like me.”

“Like you?” I bristled. She was right, though. First, I’d thrown a spell with my daughter’s signature sapphire blue. And the red spell now in my hands…

The raider tugged at the constricting spell and wheezed, “This magic is mine.”

I could raid spells just like her. I was raiding her magic now.

Disgusted, I dropped my grip on her throat. Her eyes were closed, her grimace faded.

I dragged the raider across the porch and to the edge of my property. She was still breathing, just unconscious, so I left her there. As I dusted my palms, a raider in quiet gray clothing appeared, his mouth gaping. He looked at the broom, then back at the woman. His palms jerked up, gray magic sparking from his fingertips.

“I’ll take the broom,” he growled.

I smirked. “Sure.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Krysta Tawlks has written various projects over the years, which has ranged from picture books to young adult fantasy trilogies. When she’s not lost in her imagination, she teaches English skills to language learners. Her writing is inspired by real life people and stories—family, friends, UFO documentaries… and her doting husband.

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