“Naghnatë?” I moved myself closer to her head as I realised how poorly she was.
With apprehension, I took her hands in mine and felt with distress how cold they were. She gasped with much effort and tried to move her chapped-lips, unable to sustain a word.
Water, I need some water. I thought and leaped away to the far corner, moving by recollection in the dark.
With some luck I managed to find the jar with water and a mug which she drank avidly from my hands. The panting slowed a bit, though she was still unable to speak.
“Lorian, Naghnatë, why aren’t you opening the door? It’s bloody freezing out here!” Nuuk raised his voice with concern.
“Coming!” I yelled, wincing at my own pitched voice that bounced on the cavern’s walls.
If at first, the water seemed to sooth her pain, after a short while she became more agitated and her hands started to shake vigorously. And if that wasn’t enough, a nervous blinking on her face added to my concern. I desperately tightened my hands around hers trying to still the tremors. Scared as I was, I only hoped she wasn’t able to see my face much as it would most certainly betray the broad shock and fear I was feeling.
“Hold on, Naghnatë, I’ll ask them for help.” I leaped towards the entrance.
Having to wake up prey to such clashing emotions, from excitement to pure fear and anxiety, definitely did not help my concentration and I soon found myself imprecating with a sudden, acute pain.
“Damnation, this darn blackness!” in my race towards the door, I knee-kicked one of the small stools with as much strength as my hasty stride carried.
Tears of frustration spurred instantly in the corners of my eyes and I had to sit and cup my left knee with both hands.
Magic my boot. Where is it when you need it? I asked myself through my discomfort.
I was not even capable of creating a simple flicker of flame to see in that dark cave, let alone protect myself from magic wielders.
“Nuuk, Ghaeloden! Naghnatë is really sick. I don’t know what’s happened and I cannot open the door. I need help!” I yelled as I crawled behind the boulder-door.
“Master Lorian, what is the matter?” Ghaeloden’s voice made my skin crawl. Experiencing a sense of relief, I wondered why he didn’t communicate with his mind already.
“I don’t know! Naghnatë cannot breathe properly and I cannot move the rock that is blocking the entrance! It requires a magic word I don’t know.” I managed to gulp down the tears against the sharp pain.
“Move aside!” he commanded.
I scarcely moved few feet towards the safer corner of the cave when the massive boulder blasted inwards with such force that it scattered into thousands of pieces. The impact almost made me fall, were it not for the same stool that I had carelessly kicked to the side moments ago. The early, blue dawn-light sliced inside with equal violence of the sound the door had made upon destruction. It made my eyes squint in anguish. It also revealed thick dust that was smoothly floating around and allowed the fresh and bulky snowflakes to trail through the wide entrance, pushed by the gentle after-trace of the delivered force. I checked to see if any of the shattered pieces reached Naghnatë’s bed, and soon realised the blow had been magically constricted to a very narrow range.
“Lorian!” Nuuk entered the cave, waving his hands to clear his path through the dust.
“I’m here!” I replied from the corner, “I am well, but Naghnatë needs help.”
Luckily the imp’s sight was better than mine and he came straight towards me. “Let me see!”
Once he made sure I was not bleeding, he went to check on the witch. I attentively followed his moves.
“Naghnatë!” his voice was soft as he clasped her hands.
I could clearly make out her face now. She appeared relieved at the sight of him and he became distressed by the sight of her haggard face.
“I need warm water,” he said without looking at me.
With a quick glance at the stove and a pointed finger, he revived the black embers that brightened the cave with vivacious heat and firelight.
The wooden pail where we stored water was almost empty and I went out to collect some fresh snow to melt – during one of our evenings inside the cave, Naghnatë had told me that snow was the only water source for miles.
A shiver engulfed me as soon as I left the entrance; I had left without my coat. Still, I dared not waste more time.
“Master, Lorian!” From behind me, Ghaeloden’s voice made me jolt.
“Master Ghaeloden, I’m glad you made it back so fast!” I replied, his majestic sight momentarily annulling my pains.
The extensive red-tones of his massive body was pleasantly enhanced by the whiteness of the snow-covered ground and the mass of white and grey clouds that covered the sky. A small hint of pale orange could be distinguished in the desolate surroundings as the low rays of the sun briefly and alternately penetrated the thick blanket of frozen-moist. Against the featureless background his scales sparkled with their own light and I wanted to stay there and watch for as long as I could, though the urge to see Naghnatë got the best of me.
I piled generous chunks of the freshest snow into the pail and ran inside where I found a large enough cauldron in which to melt it. With the fervent magical fire inside the stove it took me less than few minutes to have some tepid water for Nuuk that, in ways known only to him, managed to appease Naghnatë’s pain.
“How is she feeling?” I asked, worryingly.
“She is better now.” His short reply confirmed to me there was more to it than he was willing to disclose. “Just some weakness, that’s all,” he continued as he gently wiped her forehead with a sodden cloth.
His tender gesture made me smile.
Her hands reduced their trembling to, what I reckoned, was a normal condition for her age, and she was able to breathe more steadily, even if her face was still pale. When my eyes met hers, she was already staring at me, cautiously inspecting my moves. Her agitated blinking had relented too and Nuuk’s relaxed composure promised she was on the mend.
I could finally feel a bit less worried, though the prospect only made me aware of my own aches and pains.
With the adrenaline gone, a bone-deep pain lifted itself from my left knee and shadowed the optimism the witch’s wellbeing had provided – she had warned me it could easily return to the broken state in which I was born with. It was only that I had easily grown accustomed to my enhanced walking and hoped my improved walking-stride would last. I sat myself on the same, cursed stool, which I would have loved to smash to splinters and toothpicks, and lifted my trouser leg to have a better look. At the sight of the purple, swollen bulge that was supposed to be my kneecap I hissed in pain and remorse. Its trails of pain were accentuated by its mere sight.
“This must be the unluckiest knee from here to Rontra Valley!” I remarked to myself bitterly.
With a finger pressed on it, I felt the malformation underneath. The skin turned from purple to yellow and then white. I knew I had to use some snow; I had to do whatever I could to avoid going back to how it was. This was not a time to give up hope. With Naghnatë ill, there were few chances that I’d ameliorate anytime soon. The pain was growing more intense and I couldn’t prop my body’s weight on my left leg anymore.
Will I ever learn to pay attention and be of some help?
I struggled to keep at bay the rage that suffused my entire being.
Master Lorian, there is no reason to be so hard on yourself! Ghaeloden’s voice startled me but also assured me with all his mighty influence.
Ghaeloden, I replied feeling dejected, if I had been better prepared all would’ve sorted itself quicker and without so much damage. What if Nuuk couldn’t save the witch? What if you hadn’t been here and she died because of me?
From where I stood, I could see his shadow moving closer to the entrance and I decided to go out to get some more fresh snow.
“How could all this have been your fault? There i
s no one to be blamed! You have done all that was in your power and you did it very well. Besides, it will take much more to rid ourselves of the witch than a mere weakness of the soul!” Ghaeloden spoken words succeeded in comforting me.
With my slow, aching steps, I reached outside. I was willing to spend more time with the Drakhahoul and let my eyes bask in that marvellous vision for as long as I could, being the sole distraction of mind that could aid my sorrow.
Alas, a blizzard was on its way over the plains around the cavern. The power of the wind escalated as the sun rose, deeply hidden behind the thick layer of clouds, making the fresh snow drift, curl and whistle around the desolate plains with hurting vigour. A quick glance upon the red dragon’s face had to suffice, rushed between a quick hand-dab of snow and another. He was comfortably standing with his head propped on his forelegs, as if lulled by the angry wind into a quiet sleep, careless of the snow that started nesting over his body.
When I had a satisfactorily, big enough snowball I returned inside as quick as my legs allowed and gained my most comfortable position on the corner of my bed.
Please work! I let out the obstinate thought as I gently passed the cold ball over my bruised knee.
In the warm, orange light of the fireplace, the swollen, glistening kneecap throbbed. The delicate snow melted creating small streams of water and bringing goose bumps to my skin. Despite the brief shivers of cold, my leg radiated with an unnatural warmth from deep within my muscles. I knew it wasn’t a good sign and grew more anxious. I kept at it until the snow had completely melted.
Although his attention was still dedicated to looking after Naghnatë, Nuuk spared some time to place a quick spell and parry the wide entrance. The invisible magic wall prevented wind from making its way inside the cavern, while allowing light and sound in. Thanks to his gesture, the warmth of the fire quickly filled the space. He then felt the need to rummage for some ingredients and start cooking.
The hours passed and the witch seemed to recover herself. Her skin turned to a healthier tone and she could properly move her arms and fingers without too much trembling.
“And how is it that you know how to cook for humans, imp? Don’t tell me Felduror taught you because I won’t have it!” Naghnatë broke the silence.
“It’s –” the imp tried to reply.
“Naghnatë!” I interrupted him, lifting myself up and aggravating my knee again. “How do you feel?” I rejoiced to hear her mocking tone, even as I grimaced in pain.
“I feel much better, Lorian. And that is because of our friend over there,” she pointed towards Nuuk, who exchanged a friendly glance from the stool where he was diligently cooking, “but I’m starving!”
“It won’t take much longer for my masterpiece,” replied Nuuk as he sipped the warm potage with a wooden spoon.
The smell was intriguing and I decided that I’d have to find which of the two was a better cook.
He then served us in wooden bowls right where we stood, impatiently waiting for our judgement on his skills before he joined us.
Delicious and rich. There couldn’t have been a better reward for his efforts than us asking for another round.
With our bellies filled, we had plenty of time to re-consider what transpired. The witch’s eyes still betrayed a feeble trail of faintness and I was sure that the imp had seen it too.
“There’s no need for you to worry! I am well now!” the witch said out loud, anticipating my undisclosed thought. “I am only a bit out of practice and tired. It’s been a long time since I had to use any of those spells and the past days’ exercises had taken their toll on me.”
It came to me, that it must’ve been true what she had said; that the spells she had used with me, hadn't been mere words for beginners, and had required a good amount of magical verve.
Nuuk was silently waiting for her to continue and I was wondering why my body was not as shattered as hers, since we both had used magic with almost the same intensity; or was it something else?
Or perhaps, attacking demands more stamina than defending? I considered.
That is a correct assumption, master Lorian! The dragon’s voice startled me. Magic is not a human art nor was it ever intended to be!
Master Ghaeloden, I wavered, hearing his unexpected voice ring in my head, though I was more curious than concerned, why so?
There’s a very simple explanation, at least to us it’s simple! He let out a gurgle before continuing. In human nature, releasing spells intent on harming others, requires the largest amount of energy because the purpose of magic has never been to harm. Body, mind and soul would ache even with the smallest of the offensive spells let alone with those that could bring death to one’s opponent. The magical creatures that had deliberately shared their knowledge in the art of magic – and let me remind you that the first to do so was a Drakhahoul, Algudrin-the-Bold – had done so with the purest of intentions, not knowing that a human mind could be so malevolent to alter the use which was second nature to them. For these creatures, and I mean us, magic is an unbroken and inalienable way to live by, that acts like a binder between all beings and not a mean to reach a purpose… he paused briefly, obviously trying to look for an equivalent example, … just like the instincts in the tiniest of animals, that are awoken and inspired to survive by the unexplainable nothing that comes at birth, just the same, magical creatures are guided by an unperceivable force, the magic, that does not dictate to do neither harm nor good, it simply exists within our beings. For a magical creature, harming someone, is as mysterious as magic is, for a human mind. And with this I do not mean eating a cow or a sheep, that is a whole different story as harming implies hate! The two, magical and non-magical beings, were conceived of a different breed, the first of which, us, lives in serenity with magic and the second one, you, sees it as a mere weapon and means to wealth and enrichment.
I wouldn’t do that! I just want to be safe, and live a normal life with my family! I felt disquieted by his assumption.
You can fool yourself, but you cannot fool me, master Lorian! he replied sharply. Don’t try and deny that being able to walk straight again, stronger than ever, is something that you would easily dismiss.
Of course I would love that! Yet, I always wanted this before knowing about magic! I tried to argue my case.
Exactly so, young master! You have always desired it and now magic is your sole mean of achieving it! Don’t you see? It will always start with the most innocent desire and will expand to wanting more and more until that much can only be achieved by harming the others! His voice lingered in my mind as I made sense of what he was saying.
I knew he was both right and wrong and I partly understood his point of view.
You have just begun your magical journey and still have to understand its true significance. What is it to stop you from desiring more? After all, desiring is a natural thing. Do you think that once you will have healed your leg you will stop there?
Surely he had a reason to be so adamant in believing that everyone was alike, though I restrained myself from interrupting.
It’s not about what you want, master Lorian. It’s the fact that you do want! This, together with knowing you can have anything through magic, well almost anything, puts you automatically in the pool with other humans that have wielded magic before. I still have to find one that proves me wrong, and until that happens, please allow me to think you are just the same. Make no mistake, I am not blaming you; just like I was born on this side you were equally born on the other. Nobody’s fault.
I decided not to insist nor try to prove something that, as a matter of fact, could still go either way.
I understand and I do hope that one day I will be the first to prove you wrong!
And I’m looking forward to that day!
The Drakhahoul retreated into a silent tranquillity after our conversation. Their long journey had undeniably drawn a precious amount of strength from his body as well as mind. His need to rest was emphasised by the
carelessness he offered to the wretched weather outside.
“And how did the practice go then?” asked Nuuk, maybe trying to make Naghnatë feel less stressed.
“I think not that great. I’m starting to get accustomed to the nauseating effect of drowning!” I chuckled but not that much, thinking back to the dreadful feeling.
“So you were about to drown?” he asked.
“Indeed he was!” replied Naghnatë. “At least we found out that water is his counter-element. Therefore, master Nuuk, we have ourselves a fire-wielder amongst us!”
“A fire-wielder? How marvellous!” He jumped off his stool.
The exhilaration in his glistening eyes reminded me with pleasure why I took a liking for the awkward-looking creature.
“Apparently so, yet I cannot even fashion a flicker of light when most needed!” I lowered my face ashamed of my failure and the possibilities it could have born.
“Oh, stop it!” Naghnatë picked my allusion. “You should’ve seen him, Nuuk, wielding that fireball as if it were a ball of hay in his bare hands.” She shifted her glance at him while pointing at me, her eyes wide open and rich with contentment. “And you want to know something else? I really used way more verve than I was supposed to, that’s the reason for my poorly condition! I was certain you could do more when I used the first spell and I increased the strength of each following one until I could feel there was not much more left. When I reached water I thought I had exaggerated and I felt a bit reluctant to continue. Surprisingly, you managed very well. I knew instantly that with fire it would’ve been a spectacle to watch so I used all I had left, to test you!”
“Goblins’ tails!” Nuuk let out his bewilderment.
“A spectacle indeed. That was a vision I really did not expect to see anytime soon, I tell you that!” the witch concluded, visibly revived by her own recount.
I remained silent, surprised by her revelations.
“Oh, I really wish I’d been there!” said the imp with some disappointment. “I do wonder, however, why neither me nor master Ghaeloden were able to sense it?”
Winterhorn (Tokens Of Benevolence Book 1) Page 27