She moved her fingers close together and stared at me. Then, with one last, long breath, I nodded my readiness.
As soon as she released the spinning, wispy-ball of clouds that vibrated between the palms of her hands I yelled, “Arhea-hia!”
The ball travelled towards me with blinking speed, expanding to a bigger sphere, twice my size. An almost blinding light was produced at the impact, and all I could hear afterwards was the sound my body made when it bashed heavily against the hard walls of the dark-grey stone, and the whistling of my ears. The blow had compressed my rib cage making my lungs decompress with a nervous cough I could not govern. I had to give my body time to recover from the outburst and wondered if my head was bleeding from the blow.
Only when I could finally breathe normally was I able to check if I had any broken limbs, cuts or bruises. The ribs felt intact, everything did. There was no pain at all, except a curious feeling caused by a multitude of shivers, crawling like small spiders all over my arms and legs.
“Very well done, young master!” Naghnatë approached me.
“You call this well done?” I lifted myself straight, still feeling the urge to cough. “I almost coughed myself to death!”
“You are alive aren’t you, master Lorian? This spell could have killed you just as easily!” she continued.
I decided to ignore the pang of anxiety her words delivered and replied quickly, “But, anyone would have got a second chance to attack and then I’d be dead surely.”
“Would they? Do you think a spell like this is a small task?” She laughed loudly.
I hadn’t the faintest clue what that meant and did not insist on knowing. Yet, I kept thinking of the same thing; could her spell have killed me if I hadn’t been ready? With another brush of the dust on my knees, I distanced the negative thoughts and concentrated on the positive ones. I had used magic consciously for the first time! Me, the cripple of Sallncoln. The knockback inconvenience seemed a small price to pay for having been able to wield magic and I became happier and content with my first attempt at a defensive spell.
“If you feel ready, we can continue!” She briefly checked to make sure I was fine.
“I am ready!” The confidence in my voice surprised the both of us.
Same stances, same looks.
When she gathered the spell, I noticed a tiny pebble, the size of a fingernail, only darker, which slowly multiplied into many other rocks of various shapes and colours, becoming a very fast-spinning conglomerate of dirt, mud and dead brushwood. It looked more menacing than the previous sphere of clouds and I feared that I would really get hurt regardless if I countered it correctly and prepared myself. I was sure it was the earth element and so I started repeating the defensive spell before I nodded my readiness.
With the same flashing intensity, she released the spell and I shouted the counter spell ‘Arhea-tcha’, which echoed through the small room.
When it struck me, I was surprised to see the many rocks and twigs disperse right before they touched me. And even though I stood steadier than before, and I did not get pushed against the wall with the same intensity, I still lost my balance and fell on my bottom. A much more tolerable pain followed this time, even as the crawling sensation intensified and I had to brush my legs and hands with vigour to make it disperse.
“Excellent!” She checked for injuries and helped me up.
Her thoughtfulness, my achievement and the lack of serious pain made me calmer.
“How did it go?” I asked.
“It went better than I had anticipated. I was expecting you to get knocked back again.” She chuckled. “Every spell strengthens your magical abilities and the more you use them the better it gets before you tire yourself. Though, there is no need to yell when you use magic. You can only whisper or think about it and it will be just as effective.” She winked at me.
Her words bolstered my strength and determination and I was ready to continue, itching with curiosity and reluctant to let go the smile etched on my face. As soon as she regained her offensive stance and the tickling sensation was completely gone, I repeated the last two counter-spells for the two missing elements; water and fire.
With the same gesture and preamble, a tiny drop appeared between her palms.
Water.
The fast-spinning ball of angry water seemed bigger than the previous two as I set my mind on the counter spell. Determined to avoid yelling again I tried to calm myself, though it was hard to ignore the ever-growing sphere.
With my left foot in front of my right, I steadied myself and nodded my readiness. Her fingers split and with flashing speed a huge wave of water hit me, trapping me inside the salted-water sphere that had now reached the height of the cave’s walls.
I was drowning.
Caught unprepared, I had allowed little air inside my lungs and it would not last much longer. Whenever I tried to touch the sphere’s edges, something would pull me, spinning me back into the middle of it. The dreadful sensation of drowning was not new to me and it only made me more agitated, as opposed to what everyone else had told me; to keep calm. I was running out of time. A sip of the bitter salty-water signed the depletion of the air inside my body which twitched with uncontrollable spasms. Through the semi-transparent, murky cold-water, the witch approached with no apparent haste or intent to pull me out. Distorted by the thick waves, she was motionless and only tilted her head to watch me drown.
“Help!” My mind issued the soundless word, but she did not move a muscle.
My throat was pushing and pulling at my tongue, which was stuck on my palate in an utter void. I fought the urge to open my mouth and I thought I felt my eyes bulging out of their sockets. Only when I thought all was gone, the voracious sphere splashed to the floor, dropping me with force.
I gasped for air with raucous sounds as I embraced the cold stone and spat out salt water. My eyes burned.
“Water, I need water!” I spluttered weakly.
With no words, the witch went to one of the cavern’s corners and returned with a mug of fresh water which I drank down eagerly. Cold started to make its way over my soaked body, shivering in my bones.
She must’ve noticed as she knelt beside me and started whispering with her eyes closed.
A warm draught of air crawled over me and slowly dried my body and clothes. I stopped shivering and felt warmer as all the water that impregnated my clothing, quickly spread outwards in a wide puddle around us, not touching any of the two. Oddly enough, the walking-spiders’ sensation was missing this time.
She went to get another mug of water which I drank more slowly.
“Thank you!” I gasped. “For a moment I thought I would die.”
“For a moment I thought that too!” Her cold reply took me by surprise and left me speechless.
I was expecting a totally different reaction, definitely a little more compassion for my tested body.
“Take your time to recuperate your strengths and once you feel ready, we will proceed with fire!” With swift pacing she dropped a log inside the stove and went towards the small cupboard, returning with a piece of dried meat flat on a piece of dark bread.
“Eat this and have another mug of water. You’ll recover in no time.” The food appealed me more than her plain words.
“Thank you!” I replied, sitting on a stool near the stove.
Even if I didn’t feel cold, the firelight cleansed me from the afflictions I had lived through. Many thoughts and questions crossed my mind, but I knew better than to give in to weakening emotions. A languid sense of sorrow washed over me as I thought about Nuuk. I missed having the imp around. We barely ever talked or did anything together, and still there had always been something kind about him. I knew for sure that his presence would have comforted me. Probably he would have been able to explain some of these spells in a simpler way than the witch.
The meat, bread and cheese made me feel almost ready for the final counter-spell, though what really pushed me to see this th
rough was the urge to finally be done with it and properly rest. I was exhausted and still famished.
“I am ready!” I regained my position with some timidity.
The witch went to her place. She appeared strangely more silent and pensive than before.
With the final fire element to defend from, I set my mind to the ‘Arhea-ignat’ counter-spell and gathered every remaining ounce of strength.
Her eyes turned black again and the unmistakeable spark between her palms turned into a raging spinning-fireball.
A quick twist of my front foot, settled my defensive stance and I nodded I was ready. If previously I had only whispered my spell, at this point I did not even move my lips. A strange sense of confidence kept my lips tight together as I locked the magic word in my mind. I felt my feet firmly pushing against the stone floor almost as if they were bonded together.
The fireball expanded from the witch to a deadly extent and I stopped blinking as the flash of light travelled towards me with head-spinning speed. In a fraction of a second the flames engulfed me, spinning and hissing like a tornado made of fire. I shut my eyes impulsively, expecting to be set ablaze.
Yet it did not happen.
When I opened my eyes I saw my feet securely on the ground, untouched by the flames only pleasantly warmed and lit by the red-yellow firelight. I quickly looked around astounded only to find myself instinctively pushing with my hands outwards. From where my palms were touching together, a shielding field of an almost invisible force, thrusted outwards, restricting the heat and fire to curve around me. The angry fire could only bounce back and forth on the glass-like surface, not able to penetrate and harm me. The distorted reflection of the witch was bouncing concomitantly with the flames that kept trying to penetrate the invisible, protective armour.
“Let go!” I more read her lips than heard her voice. “Let down your hands and it will cease!” she continued.
With some hesitation, I dropped my left hand alongside my body noticing how the protective shield slowly started to fade away. The flames gradually diminished their intensity, trailing in the direction that my hand had taken. I released my other hand as well and soon every flame vaporised with a clear-grey fume and a dying hiss. The howling of the fire subdued and every other sound became clearer. I could hear myself achingly breathe again as I relaxed my tensed body.
“And with that I think we’ve found your element!” Naghnatë exclaimed as she joined me.
“Fire?” I said between acute exhales. “How is it that I have a magical element when there have been no wizards or witches in my family. Not any that I know of anyway.” I was equally excited and perplexed.
“Everyone has an inclination towards one of the elements, be it wizard, witch or common mortal. Think about your friends and family. I wager some of them prefer warm weather rather than cold, some of them like heights and others don’t and some like to swim whilst others don’t. That is all related to one’s propensity for one of the natural elements.” She seemed a little distracted about which herbs to use for hot tea. “And I wouldn’t be so sure that you don’t have magical kinsfolks in your family. That knife of yours didn’t get to you by sheer coincidence!”
Could that be true? From all I knew, or have been told, grandfather Dhereki only had received the token quite late in his days and that was the only event that had anything to do with magic. There were no other magical occurrences previous to that event and I was sure my grandmother would have mentioned it.
However, it was also true that few weeks ago I did not even believe in magic nor had I ever dreamed to see a Drakhahoul in the flesh, so I put aside my incredulity and dedicated my attention to her.
“And are there counter elements?” I asked, thinking with dread at the intense, life-threatening situation of few moments’ past.
“Obviously, and water is yours,” she replied. “I’m afraid water will always be your weakest element and you should pay additional attention to that whenever you have to learn a new spell. I had a hunch that fire was your element when you said what word you used inside the forest. And had it confirmed moments ago when you almost drowned fighting the water spell.” She concluded with a long sigh.
“Why isn’t there a spell that protects us from any element?” I continued.
“Well there is, but it’s more complicated than that! Magic comes from the wiser magical-creatures; the Iprorims, the Drakhahouls, the eldest elves and many other creatures born within magic. None of them had ever used magic to harm others. It was only a part of their lives and not a tool to conquer or inflict pain. A very different way of thinking to us. It was because of the weak minds of mankind that magic has become dangerous. In time, humankind learned to use magic for own benefits and tried to master whatever element allowed them to become impossible to defeat, yet never achieving the ultimate goal. Luckily, magic has a will of its own and does not allow anyone to bend it that easily. You will always face your opponent, one cannot sneak up behind you and kill you with magic. Momentarily stun you, yes, but not end your life. A wizard will have to duel another standing in front of him and only his ability to think clearer and the sharpness of his reflexes can better the other. Obviously, the more you know the more powerful you get, and in your state, you’ll be no match for any of those you’ll meet. We’re only aiming for no encounters here and trying to acquaint yourself with magic.” She placed a hand on my shoulder.
Her words were bitter but true, though I was keen to hear Nuuk’s opinion on my conduct.
The elements that had so strongly marked the cave before, did not leave a single trace or trail except what was left inside my mind. Everything appeared as before.
A scented herbal-tea invaded the small cavern with a strong, pungent waft that billowed towards the stone ceiling. Thick embers inside the fireplace, crackled noisily and vivaciously spiriting flickers of firelight all over the space and we both appreciated the unexpected moment of silence and effortless inactivity as we stood by the hot stove.
She gave a small wince of pain as she settled in her chair and appeared more tired than before. From her new position, she lifted through the air the two painted, red mugs and flew them towards her hands. Her gesture made me smile and think how nice it would be to learn that trick as well. Stirred by my awed expression, she let out a chuckle, that with exhaustion suddenly turned into a wild laughter.
For the first time since I had left Sallncoln, I felt serene.
The second day had passed even quicker than the first. We had practiced the same four counter spells until exhaustion, dedicating greater attention to the water element, which after a handful of dramatic outcomes, where I had almost drowned again, I had started to progress – probably because I was becoming accustomed to the disturbed conditions and managed to relax my mind as well as my body. One thing had definitely improved; my capability of lasting longer while holding my breath. Having to recover for longer strains and harsher outcomes, we had taken several tea-reviving breaks.
Around midday, during the longest break and upon my annoying insistence, we had taken a singular and rather disheartening exploration of the outside surroundings of the cavern. As I had already suspected, during my brief-escapades for necessities, the cave was in the middle of a featureless, snow-covered nowhere with nothing of any more interest than a desolate, endless, flat lowland, broken only by one or two, rather peculiar, ruthless brushes that apparently were able to survive in the cold climate. The bitter wind that had accompanied the leaden landscape had cut short our jaunt and forced us back inside.
The evening had arrived in the best possible way; mending my bruises and strains and celebrating my achievements with one of the best soups the witch had managed to cook that far. When it came to soups, I had always thought Nana was the best, though Naghnatë could really put up a real duel. I wondered if she ever used magic to improve her ingredients, or if her cooking skills were entirely natural.
Comforted by the heat of the small stove and by the quiet, windless e
vening, the old witch complimented me for how well the day had passed and how my body had managed to adapt to the raised intensity of her spells. The thought had only lifted my spirits and allowed me to think less of the daunting, unknown near-future that I would soon encounter. The fears that lay ahead were soothed by her warm words and the prospect of visiting the citadel was becoming a rather exciting undertaking.
We went to bed quite early, thinking that the next day Nuuk and Ghaeloden would be back, and we definitely needed all our concentration and strength if we were to succeed with our plan.
There was still plenty to do.
A Change of Plans
Lorian / Nuuk
A muffled voice could be heard from behind the massive boulder-door. “Anybody home?”
“They’re here!” I exclaimed half asleep as I jumped to my feet from my warm, straw-mattress bed.
In my rush I lost the wool-blanket to the floor and was not bothered about it; the excitement to meet the imp and the dragon was overwhelming.
I reached the entrance and pressed my hands and one ear on the cold rock, shuddering upon the contact. “Nuuk is that you?”
“Yes, master Lorian. Open up, we’re famished!” His blunted voice did not hide the exhaustion their journey had brought upon them.
The fire in the stove had almost died and the light that emanated from the fading embers was merely enough to make out vague shapes. Luckily, her bed and my improvised cot were sited both near enough to the stove to be still perceived. I felt the coldness of the stone-floor as I ran to wake Naghnatë and couldn’t help wondering why she was taking so long to wake up.
“Naghnatë, they’re here. Wake up!” I almost yelled when I sat on her bed, at her feet.
She did not reply and I could hear her fatigued breathing from where her head lay on the small pillow. I panicked and rushed to open the stove door, to allow more light, but still it was not enough. All I could make out was a faint line of her prominent cheekbones, her nose and a dull outline on her wide opened eyes.
Winterhorn (Tokens Of Benevolence Book 1) Page 26