A Sudden Wild Magic

Wild it was. It lifted her in an exultant sheeting gust so long and so far that she lost all sense of time, or of her own body. She was all mind for a nano-second that seemed to last a thousand years. Understanding filled her. This was why she had always ducked out, refused training in witchcraft, run from Amanda’s kind of education. The restraints of knowledge harmed this wild power. In order to use it, Zillah could not know what it was. It would only answer a being as untrammeled as itself. It was wildness. Zillah hung in its exultant aurora borealis, exulting herself, because she had always known this about wild magic really. The instant, and the knowledge, extended infinitely. Her forgotten body sheeted across time with her, or shrank to the smallest instant, most strangely. Sometimes she had been a giant for hours, and then a small blob for a century. The knack, she discovered, was not to let it distract you. After a millennia-long instant, she was in a house she only remembered seeing once before, where a wild sending stalked around the borders of its safety, rattling windows, howling in the chimney, and snapping trees. There was a jungle of huge potted palms. She thought she had found the wrong place, until she heard her sister’s voice.

“I know, Paulie. But whoever sent it has harnessed wild magic. Part of the strength is the wild magic objecting. I can’t stop it, and I don’t think any of us dare go out, even if it is only after Mark.”

Gladys’s house, but most oddly empty of its owner. Amanda was there, standing by the hearth, and Mark was a little aside, staring at the potted trees. He looked pale even for him. Zillah took the wild magic prowling around the house, united it to her own fourfold power, and promised it freedom shortly.

“Mark,” she said. “Come with me quickly. I need you back with Herrel.”

Amanda straightened. “The sending’s gone! I—Zillah! Zillah, what do you want?”

“I’ve come for Mark,” she said. “He has to go back. It’s necessary.”

The frown Zillah knew so well collected above Amanda’s nose. “Why is that?”

She might have known, Zillah thought, that things would not be easy with Amanda in it. Mark was now somehow on the other side of Amanda, looking puzzled. “Mark,” Zillah explained, “is half of another man from another universe.”

“We know,” Amanda said, and turned to speak to another presence whom Zillah could only dimly discern. “Yes, but be quiet, Paulie. It’s Zillah. She wants Mark.” At this, the other presence seemed to raise an outcry, but Amanda turned impatiently back to Zillah. “Zillah, are you in this other world?”

“Yes, and in terrible trouble. That’s why we need Mark.”

Amanda raised her head and became more than herself. “Zillah, this man is badly flawed. For one thing, he’s been spying on us.”

“Not intentionally, or voluntarily,” Zillah said.

“There are other flaws,” Amanda answered. “Do you really want him?”

“The other half is even worse,” Zillah protested. “I love him both. Amanda, he must come, or I’ll die, Marcus will be enslaved, and Mark will probably die, too, when Herrel’s killed. Please.”

Amanda’s head was still raised. She said, with unearthly sadness, “Zillah, I’m sorry, but taking Mark makes a terrible imbalance. You could destroy two worlds.”“Then I’ll balance!” Zillah cried out. “You help. Wait a second.”

The next second, or maybe at the same time, she had taken wing on the fourfold wild magic — some of which protested and was soothed — and was in the presence of Amanda again, only with a difference. This Amanda walked through a strange room with painted panels, and her hands were nervously clasped to her mouth.

“I tell you I can’t see at this juncture,” she said to someone out of sight. “It could go any way. How I wish I hadn’t let them all go off! Or I should have gone too. What a hellbound coward I am!”

Amanda should always grow her hair that long, Zillah thought admiringly. It looked beautiful. “Amanda!”

The woman jumped and turned. “You need help?”

“Badly. Take on your Aspect and balance. Balance for your life! Here.” Zillah tossed the woman she hardly knew what — a thread, or a spark, or a skein — and to her relief and gratitude, the woman made dismissing motions to the person she had been talking to and seized what Zillah threw in competent hands.

“A moment,” Zillah heard her say. “I’m summoned as Priestess.”

She was back with her sister, flinging her another version of the thread or spark. “Balance.” This Amanda, not so used to balancing, needed Zillah’s attention more. Zillah hung between the two, holding, helping, while energy poured and thundered. It dinned around her, fell in avalanches and slid like lava, smoking and roaring. The wild magic of the sending fled shrieking upon it and was gone. Clouds scudded like boulders. When it stopped, it seemed too soon, but Zillah was spent. She hung in front of her sister, knowing she was only there on energies Josh and Philo and Tod were lending her to use.