6.7
Austin can see the magic extending outwards from him like it does from Naberius, stretching towards the bookshelf in front of him in a thin conduit. His magic is a bright, sickly green color that looks more the way he would expect ectoplasm to look, the color searing itself into Austin’s eyes as he watches it. The conduit stretches farther, farther, and latches onto the spine of a book, enveloping the whole large volume in light.
“Got it,” Austin says, his voice strained.
“Good,” Naberius says, circling him, stepping through the conduit. It closes up behind him, the light knitting back together in less than a second. “Now imagine pulling it towards you. Imagine it in your hand.”
Austin tries to visualize, in his mind’s eye, the book flying towards him, yanked along by the thin strand of his magic like a train on a track. How does Walker do it? He raises his hand - the one with the focus ring - and gestures vaguely, like he’s coaxing an animal. Almost instantly, the book vanishes.
“Well,” Naberius says, “it’s a start.”
Austin stares at the empty space the large book occupied just a few seconds ago. “Where’d it go?”
“The Void Between,” Naberius says matter-of-factly. “It’s the extradimensional space that people and things travel through while teleporting. Usually nothing spends more than a fraction of a second there, but in the case of an inexperienced magician…”
Austin grimaces. “Void between what, exactly?”
Naberius shrugs. “Oh, you know. Try again.”
Austin rolls his shoulders and looks around the room, searching for something that looks a little easier to teleport. The library contains a few tables overladen with haphazard stacks of books, a scattering of inkwells, fountain pens, piles of parchment that the slightest draft would sent spilling over the tastefully carpeted room. It’s a strange contrast to the careful cleanliness in the rest of the mansion - Austin gets the impression that Naberius doesn’t allow the library to be regularly organized like the other rooms might. It reminds him, in a way, of Channery’s office. A disaster on the surface, but everything still in its place to the one person who actually utilizes the system.
Probably easier to start with something a little smaller than a big book. Something closer. Austin stares down a fountain pen, vaguely aware of Naberius turning to follow his line of sight, but trying to put him out of mind. Austin focuses hard, letting his vision become fuzzy around the edges as his magic starts to stretch outwards. The pen looks like the kind of pen Jacob would have on his desk, maybe a gift from the Hart family. Gold nib, sleek marbled handle. Austin chews on his lip and tries not to think about Jacob. The pen. Just get the pen. A pen is about the weight of a small knife, right?
The pen rolls over, blotting a stray piece of parchment. Austin nearly jumps at the unexpectedness of the movement. Naberius claps delicately, and Austin declines to react, instead staring down the bridge of green light, willing the pen to come and leap into his hand. He feels bone-tired, more tired than looking across a room at a pen should reasonably make him, and reaches up to brush a few stray strands of hair from his eyes. His hand feels heavy, like he’s straining to lift it through a film of honey. The pen jolts suddenly, and blinks out of existence.
Austin is so startled that he almost loses the trace of the green light. He can feel it, sort of, like he’s holding a string that’s just been slammed in a door, only it’s so faint he might be making it up. He focuses on the feeling, trying to tease it back into the library, like a word on the tip of his tongue. And gradually, the conduit starts to feel stronger again, more present. Like something he can grab onto and reel in. Austin imagines doing so, carefully, not wanting to pull too hard and destroy the tenuous strand of magic.
The pen reappears several seconds later, clattering to the floor at Austin’s feet and rolling in an arc, leaving a trail of something that might be ink. Austin picks it up curiously and nearly recoils at the sensation - the pen is in one piece, unbroken, but covered in something slimy and black that coats his palm and drips onto the rug in slow, fat blobs.
“Not a bad second attempt,” Naberius says mildly. “Though I wish you wouldn’t do that on the rug.”
Austin drops the pen, shaking his hand and flinging more of the strange, ink-like slime off of it. “What the fuck is this stuff?”
“How should I know? I’ve never been to the Void.” Naberius shrugs, looking largely unconcerned, if not a little inconvenienced. “I doubt it will kill you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Austin holds his dripping hand out in front of him at an awkward angle, wanting to clean it but afraid of staining his clothes with the Void-stuff. It feels strangely cold, like he’s just pulled his hand out of a bucket of ice water.
“Here,” Naberius says, pulling a handkerchief from the inner part of his jacket and stepping closer to Austin. “Don’t look so worried. It’s harmless.”
He grabs Austin by the arm without warning, thumb pushing into his inner wrist. Austin instinctively tries to pull away, but Naberius holds him firmly in place, coming even closer and leaning down slightly to mop the Void-stuff from his hand. The white handkerchief is stained almost instantly, the viscous, black slime transferring onto it. Austin sees Naberius’s eyebrows furrow, his mouth drawing up into an unreadable expression.
What’s he thinking about? Austin idly curls his fingertips around the handkerchief, watching Naberius. His eyes are cast downwards, clouded with something - disappointment, or maybe the concern that Austin won’t be good enough in time for the duel. That he picked a loser. Would he tell me, if I don’t stand a chance? Would he still be helping me if he knew I was going to die right off the bat?
Naberius is close enough for Austin to see his Adam’s apple bobbing, in the pale strip of throat just visible above the high collar of his jacket. He runs the handkerchief between Austin’s fingers, pressing delicately to soak up the lingering Void-stuff. Austin’s breath feels shallow in his chest, every exhale too slow on the way out. A few strands of hair have fallen across Naberius’s face, harsh and dark against his skin, and Austin’s free hand itches with the need to tuck them back into place.
He’s not bad looking, for a demon, a traitorous voice in Austin’s head says. And if you’re running the risk of being stuck here -
“There,” Naberius says, so close that Austin can feel him exhale the word. He folds the handkerchief up into his hand, makes a fist, opens it a half second later to reveal nothing at all. His jaw is set in a funny, resolute way - with a jolt, Austin realizes it as an expression oddly reminiscent of Landis.
“Thanks,” Austin says, his voice hoarse.
Neither of them moves for a very long time. Naberius’s fingers are still loosely circled around Austin’s wrist, and Austin can feel his pulse beating against them, hard and quick. Naberius leans towards him, lips parted ever so slightly, and a loud, sudden bang erupts from the other side of the library.
“I’m back,” Morse announces, as Naberius squawks in surprise and dismay. “Abyss wasn’t home, but a servant let me into the armory. Wasn’t sure what Austin would like so I brought a, uh, pretty decent assortment.”
As he comes into view between the bookshelves, it becomes apparent that Morse is carrying some sort of overstuffed canvas bag on his back, bent under the weight of it. He drops it on the floor near the two swords, straightening up and looking between Naberius and Austin curiously.
“So how’s the magic coming?”
“Well enough,” Naberius says, before Austin can even open his mouth. “With a few more hours of practice, maybe he’ll even be passable.”
Austin swallows. “A few more hours?”
“We’ll take a break when it’s time for dinner.” Naberius steps away, putting a few feet of distance between himself and Austin, suddenly considerably more aloof than before. He looks around the room for a moment before pointing at an inkwell on a nearby table. “Try again, with that.”
Austin grits his teeth, but begins to focus anyhow.