Too much of the magic in fantasy just instantly works, on demand; what I want is unreliable magic. The kind of magic that might fail at the critical moment. The kind nobody really masters. Magic that has flaws, side effects, blind spots. My kind of magic.
There are three types of magic in fantasy stories:
- Soft magic, like you find in Lord of the Rings, or the Chronicles of Narnia.
- Hard magic, that is heavily codified like in Brandon Sanderson’s novels and the rule books for Dungeons and Dragons.
- Muddled magic, that is bound to objects and incantations, but has variable, breakable, inconsistent rules, from story to story. Looking at you, Harry Potter.
How does Gandalf’s magic work? Or the Snow Queen’s? No idea. What’s the limit of their powers? No idea. I know that Gandalf can speak to butterflies and kill a Balrog. That’s quite a spread of power. But the mechanics of that? Completely unexplained.
How much science goes into Allomancy or Spore magic? Quite a bit. Are Sanderson’s magic systems real science? No.
And how does Hermione use a Time Turner unnoticed for one whole book in the middle of a series, and nobody manipulates time before or after? That seems like an excellent way to stop Voldemort’s resurrection right there. Why not? Because… plot.
Cost-Benefit Analysis
Whereas the much-maligned Dungeons and Dragons lays out the whole system, down to incantations, ingredients, preparation and the time it takes to weave a spell. Very little in that system should happen instantly, on demand. The magic-user loses their luggage, that’s their spell-casting finished right there.
And what’s the cost of said magic to the user? Very few of these systems include apparent side effects. Robert Jordan accounted for this in Channeling. His sorcerers took energy from the universe and channeled it elsewhere, in different forms.
Honey, I Don’t Care
I have to be honest, when it comes to magic systems, I don’t really care about the mechanics. Magic is part of fantasy, and stories feel cheap if there is none. Without magic, I might as well write historical fiction and be done with it.
But I like fuzzy magic. Merlin, Morgan Le Fay, Moses parting the Red Sea. These mystical, mythical feats and miracles elevate a story above the everyday.
But I also like fallible magic. Let me explain…
The Hand of Destiny
Jovanka’s Second Sight is a talent inherited from her Roamer mother. But she isn’t pure blood. Years of her future hits like a tidal wave as a child, a tidal wave of shards and fragments of a broken mirror. Fractured, incomplete, it rarely makes sense. Moments come upon her with little warning.
The problem with the Sight is predestination. If the future is fixed, what room is there for free will? It can be paralysing.
As her story progresses, Jovanka is assailed by new visions. Contradictory visions. New paths open up, and she becomes paralysed by indecision. The Sight doesn’t always work in battle, the way she’s grown up to expect. That’s almost fatal.
Worse than that, the Sight later manifests as a physical illness. Then it ceases altogether. It isn’t reliable. As some point, she has to abandon it and make her own decisions. Her one advantage against magical opponents; gone.
What happens when two future-seers clash? Can one out-vision the other? Do they cancel each other out?
Think No Evil
The Brotherhood of the Book is a fifth column within the Church. The acolytes are Readers, able to read minds, and worse, able to compel others to their will. This makes the Brotherhood complacent and arrogant. It’s a fine talent, but like a poor phone network, it lacks one hundred per cent coverage.
Rare individuals are immune to the priest’s compulsion. They don’t know this until they find one. And in the middle of a battle that’s a fatal discovery. Hubris and the lack of a back-up plan can seriously spoil a brother’s day.
What if someone has the power to detect lies? What is the priest’s compulsion if not a lie? Might my truth-sayer resist that compulsion? And at what cost? My truth-sayer in book four isn’t exactly a diplomat. A teenager, but without the ability to lie, she’s as blunt as a club hammer.
Healing Hands
Healing magic exists, but it has limits. No one can raise the dead; that’s a rule. You can fix certain injuries, but the severity of the injury, the extent of the repair, and the ability of the healer all play their part.
You can heal small wounds quickly. More serious ones take longer, and may never heal completely. A small cut, a shattered bone or a broken back present very different challenges. Healing itself can be debilitating for the healer.
No smoke without fire
In a knowing stroke of irony, the control of fire does not make one immune to burning. The budding pyromaniac should exercise caution, lest the fire gets out of control. And invisibility by itself doesn’t hide your smell, your footprints, the sound of your breathing or your shape in fog. An invisible man can bend light, but not the fabric of reality.
A Seer, A Mind-bender and a Stubborn Man walk into a Bar
In my softest of soft-magic systems, there are no aces. The strongest of the Brotherhood will break his body and mind if he pushes his power too far. How far is that? He won’t know until he tries.
And who can resist the priest’s power? No one knows until they confront it. Strong adults turn to jelly, while a child shrugs it off like rainwater. A seer, like a truth-sayer, sees the lie in their future. And there’s no accounting for the resistance fighter, the die-hard rebel…
Winner Takes All
My unreliable magic doesn’t throw lightning bolts and fireballs. Although sometimes you can call lightning or cast tongues of fire. There’s no teleportation and no flying. There’s no ‘eye of newt and wing of bat’ in the cauldron. Viewing a remote location doesn’t mean you understand what’s going on there.
You can’t guarantee a result using my unreliable magic.