Awakening Camelot: A Wizard's Quest (Awakening Camelot Duology Book 1)

by Dan Wingreen

  "Hey!" Eallair said, crossing his arms. "Who're you callin’ a slave?"

  Two Rivers shot him a worried look, but when Eallair didn't burn him up on the spot he rallied gamely, as one of Aidan's old WA directors used to say.

  "If we aren't going to kill them"—he sounded more than a little disapproving at that, Aidan noted—"then we should keep them here until we find out for sure what they are."

  The Shaman waited patiently, long enough to make sure that Two Rivers was done speaking, but not long enough for him to realize that and try to think of something else to say, before responding.

  "And where would we keep them, apprentice?" The Shaman asked calmly. "In a hole in the ground that they can escape from? Tied up in here with ropes that they can burn through? Under guard from men and women they have already injured? And even if we found bonds that would hold them, who would be able to place them in it?"

  Eallair held out his wrists to the boy. "Wanna give it a go?" he asked with a grin.

  Two Rivers flushed and looked at the floor. "I just don't think we should let them go," he said sullenly.

  The Shaman placed his hand on the boy's shoulder. "You are being cautious," he said with a small nod of approval. "It is a good trait in a leader. But you must also temper caution with reason. If they are working with the necromancer, then sending them back to him leaves us in exactly the same position we are in now. There are still three men against us, only now two of them are no longer in the middle of our village, and we have time to prepare for the next attack. An attack that we have little hope of surviving."

  Two Rivers' head snapped up and he looked like he was about to protest, but the Shaman squeezed his shoulder and he stilled.

  "If they are not working with him, if they are telling the truth, then they could be the only thing that saves us from the evil besieging us. And if they are a different kind of evil"—he turned hard eyes towards Eallair—"then maybe they will all kill each other and leave us in peace."

  Eallair barked out a delighted laugh.

  "Either way," the Shaman said, turning back to Two Rivers, "the necromancer has made it clear that he wants our land and our dead. We cannot survive here unless he is killed, and yet he grows stronger while we grow weaker. We must do whatever is possible to survive, as we have always done."

  Two Rivers licked his lips nervously. Aidan could practically see every thought going through his head reflected in his expression. He hated what the Shaman was suggesting, hated it to his very core. But he was listening. More than that, he was understanding. Instead of denying the Shaman’s words he trusted in his wisdom and, when he finally looked up the Shaman and nodded his acceptance, Aidan had to hide a small smile behind his hand. Maybe when Two Rivers grew up a bit he had a chance of being a decent leader after all.

  I guess we’re all off the kid’s table now.

  "So…what would you have done if we never showed up?" Aidan asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the yurt. Every head in the room turned towards him, and he began to feel a bit self-conscious under all the attention. "Um, I mean, could you even kill the necromancer on your own?"

  For a long moment, he fought not to squirm under the look the Shaman was giving him. He almost felt like he was being silently scolded for speaking out of turn now. He set his jaw and refused to look away. If he was done taking that crap from Eallair there was no way he was going to take it from some topless guy who lived in a tent in the desert.

  "No," the Shaman said just as Aidan was starting to think he was just going just stare at him for the rest of the night. "He is weakest after an attack, but we could not find him before we felt you on our land and abandoned our search. He will have more death to draw on when he comes back, and we will have fewer numbers. We would most likely die if you fail to kill him."

  Aidan blinked in surprise at the blunt answer.

  "Why don't you just…leave, then?" he asked. "It can't be that hard to pack up your houses, um, tents, uh"—he waved his hand in the air, indicating the yurt and causing the sleeve of his jacket to flop a bit—"these things, and drive away, right?"

  Again, the Shaman regarded him for a long time before answering.

  "We are bound to our land. It lets us focus our magic, tame it, use it. Everything that takes place on our land is known to us through this bond and if we were to leave, we would have to sever it, leaving our magic locked away inside us, wild and unusable, except at great risk and much devastation."

  The Shaman settled back in his chair and gave Aidan an assessing look. "Much like you, if I am not mistaken."

  Aidan blinked. "What do you mean? I—"

  Locked inside. Wild and unusable.

  The fire in his chest seemed to curl and writhe as he made the connection.

  "You're talking about…wizards?"

  The Shaman cocked his head. "I believe that is the outsider word for it, yes."

  Aidan shook his head rapidly. "No, that can't be right. You—wizards can't use magic. Ever. It's impossible!"

  "Unless you have a focus," the Shaman said, seeming confused. "A way to ground your power. You…did not know this?"

  "No," Aidan shouted. "I mean—there's nothing to know. You're wrong. Wizards can't use magic. I can't use magic!"

  The Shaman frowned slightly. "Of course you can."

  His chest clenched with a painful and familiar longing. How many nights over the years had he lain awake wishing that was true? That he could use even the simplest magic without exploding into a ravenous inferno? That he could be normal? If there was anybody who knew what this Shaman was saying wasn't true, it was Aidan. If it was true, he would have known. He would have figured it out long ago and—

  Except he never tried, did he?

  No. It's bullshit. He’s messing up his Britannic, or something. Whatever he’s really saying is lost in translation. I can't use magic.

  "You're wrong," Aidan said again, shaking his head.

  "I am not. You can use magic."

  "Shaman. If he doesn't know don't tell him!" Two Rivers hissed. "We can take them if he won't use his power."

  "We do not want to 'take them', apprentice," the Shaman said reprovingly. "We want them to 'take' the necromancer. They will both need their abilities to defeat him."

  "Stop saying that!" Aidan yelled. His chest burned and he wanted to let go, to burn in front of them so they'd see they were wrong, that trying to shove hope into the parts of his heart where hope died out years ago could cause nothing but pain. "Lee! Tell him he's wrong, tell him—"

  His words stopped as surely as if they'd run headfirst into a brick wall at the expression on Eallair's face. The reluctant, almost timid way he met Aidan's eyes. Like he was scared of how Aidan was going to react.

  Aidan’s heart stopped.

  “Lee…?”

  "Aidan," Eallair said quietly, "he ain't wrong."

  Aidan started to shake his head, the denial instant and automatic. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be.

  But…Lee's never lied to me. He's held things back but he's never—

  He's held things back…

  Oh Merlin.

  Aidan's throat went dry as the fire in his chest flared up in a way that recalled someone rolling their eyes in exasperation and saying "Finally".

  Aidan swallowed roughly.

  "So, on a scale from one to ten how pissed off at me are you—" Eallair started.

  "Shut up," Aidan said. It was quiet, almost a whisper, but Eallair flinched like Aidan had screamed in his face. "How is it possible? How can I use magic? Because that isn't just some lie the government told. I can't fucking use magic, so how can I use magic?"

  Eallair rubbed the back of his head. "You can't. Not right now at least," he added quickly when Aidan started to yell at him again. "But…you could learn."

  "How?" Aidan asked again, and if it sounded like he was begging he couldn't really bring himself to care.

  "It's kind of a bit complicated—"

  Aidan gla
red at him, daring him to finish that sentence.

  "—and you’re obviously wantin’ to know anyway, so I'll just get on with it then," he continued without skipping a beat. "Starts out a bit basic, but, magic is everywhere. Everyone knows that. It's always movin’, throughout the whole world. But do you know why it moves?"

  Aidan shook his head.

  "Because of sorcerers," Eallair said. "We're conduits, like…ancient windmills, sort of, but instead of being moved by the wind we move all on our own, taking the magic into us and then blowing it back out again. Billions of conduits all over the world, pushin’ magic around so it covers the whole planet. But, see, we ain't solid, like. Kind of like a sieve, you know? But with more ability to hold things instead of just…sievin’ them—okay maybe that’s not the best way to…maybe we’re more like a bucket with a bunch of holes in the bottom? But not too many, just enough so’s we can fill up but most of the magic we take in drains back out, we only keep a little bit of it. Some are bigger buckets and can hold more than most, but it still ain't a lot. We can use that magic, shape it, fight with it, but we can't do too much with it too fast or we'll run out. And the bigger stuff, like openin’ up the ground to swallow a few possible-but-not-really-necromancers? Most of us could never manage that, even with a lifetime of training and learning how to pull every last bit of magic from the air we can. Earth’s too strong, too old and set in its ways and saturated with magic of its own. It doesn’t wanna be torn up, see? So, it’s hard for a sorcerer to hold enough magic inside to make it do what it don’t want to do. Wind’s different, of course. So’s fire and water. All of ‘em move on their own, so they’re easier—sorry, kinda losin’ track here, where was I?”

  “Sorcerers are like buckets with holes?”

  "Right. Yeah. Sorcerer’s are like buckets with holes. Wizards, on the other hand, are more like dams. You take every bit of magic that goes into you and just, keep it. You store it up until you start to overflow and the rest just sorta spills out back into the air. But you don't push it out. Even the weakest wizard has about five times the raw magic stored up inside him as the most powerful sorcerers. Magic though, especially that much all in one place…it's raw, wild, and untamed. It doesn't wanna be controlled. It wants to be used and unleashed. It can feel the rest of the magic flowin’ through the world, and it wants more than anything to do that, too. So, when a wizard uses a bit of magic, it's like blastin’ a hole in the side of the dam. Everything comes pouring out so fast it rips the hole even wider. A huge, massive escape of magic like that manifests itself like a firestorm, or an earthquake, or a tornado, or any one of a dozen other catastrophic things.

  "And that's where spells come in."

  Aidan shook his head. He may not know much about magic—knew a lot less than he thought he did, apparently—but he knew that much at least.

  "But whenever a wizard tries to use a spell, something horrible happens," he said.

  Eallair smiled, a bit indulgently Aidan thought. "That's because those ain't spells. Or at least, they didn't used to be. Back thousands of years ago when magic didn't cover the whole world, everyone what could use magic was a wizard. Well, almost everyone. Maybe one in a thousand were a sorcerer, but everyone else what could use magic couldn't use it naturally. So, they needed a way to focus their magic and only use the exact amount they needed for what they needed to do. And that's what a spell is. It's a chant, or a word or two, or a wand or a staff or mixed ingredients, just a bit of somethin’ to focus the mind on what needed to be done so that, instead of blastin’ a hole in a dam, a wizard could turn on a faucet and take only what was needed without disturbin’ the rest. It takes time and effort, but a fully trained wizard who can successfully cast spells can do things sorcerers can only dream about. Amazing things."

  Eallair's eyes grew distant and unfocused. Like he was lost in a memory.

  "Sometimes terrible things."

  "Terrible things?” Aidan asked quietly.

  "Aye," Eallair said, still only half paying attention. "Terrible things. Wonderful, terrible things."

  Aidan shuddered.

  He felt…hollow. Drained. He'd thought he was used to having his entire world turned inside out by now, but this? This was almost too much. All his life he'd wished something like that was true, that he could use magic. Now, here he was, Aidan the wizard, apparently more powerful than all the sorcerers he'd ever envied. He didn't know how to feel. Well, that wasn't true. He knew exactly how he felt. But he was so tired of being terrified of every new thing that popped up in his life. Maybe he could just take a page from Eallair's book and be delighted at experiencing new things, instead of being scared by them. And this wasn't even a bad thing. He could use magic. Magic. Excitement started to bubble up inside him, filling the hollow spaces. When could he start? How would he learn? Who would teach him?

  Before he could ask any of that though, there was something much more important he needed to know.

  "All right," he said. He looked Eallair in the eyes. "So why didn't you tell me?"

  Eallair blinked as he came out of whatever thoughts he was caught up in. "What?"

  “About being able to use magic. I get why the government would keep it a secret, but why did you?”

  “Oh. Um.” Eallair’s eyes flickered towards the other two people in the yurt. "Can we talk about it later?"

  Aidan glared. He could feel himself getting angry, but he did his best to stamp it down. "No. We can't 'talk about it later'. You didn't tell me that I could use magic and I want to know why."

  Eallair tilted his head towards the Shaman and Two Rivers and gave Aidan another Significant Look. "We're not exactly alone," he said under his breath.

  "I don't care!" Aidan exploded. Okay, fuck not getting angry. He couldn't believe Eallair just wouldn't tell him. Not only that, he was actively trying to keep it from him and being as subtle about it as a kid trying out lying for the first time.

  "Well, maybe I do," Eallair said with sudden stubbornness.

  "Bullshit. You don't get to care about anything right now." Eallair opened his mouth but Aidan cut him off. "Three times I could have used magic to save myself, or you, since we met. Three fucking times. Three times I felt useless, or terrified, or both. Three times I could have done anything other than sit there waiting for you to rescue me or watch and hope that you didn't die. Do you have any idea how that feels?"

  Again he cut Eallair off before he could answer.

  "No, you don't." He threw his arms in the air, shot up and started furiously pacing around the yurt, too furious to sit still. "You're the big damn hero. You're the one who swoops in at the last second and saves the day. You've never had to feel helpless."

  "That ain't true."

  "Of course it is!" Aidan yelled. "You have all this power and you can do anything and all this time I could, too, and you didn't tell me and I want to know why!"

  "I tried to tell you!" Eallair yelled back. "In the carriage today but you wouldn't let me talk."

  "No, you do not get to turn this around on me. You could have told me anytime."

  Eallair shifted on his pillow almost like he was nervous or uncomfortable. Which was ridiculous, because Aidan couldn't think of a single reason why Eallair would ever be nervous about explaining himself. Unless the explanation was something horrible, something that would maybe prove that he actually was a liar the whole time and…

  "I had other things on my mind, all right?" Eallair said.

  Or maybe it was just the worst excuse anyone had ever thought up.

  Aidan stopped dead. "That's the first time you've ever lied to my face," he said softly. It hurt. It hurt more than Aidan ever thought it would

  Eallair winced. "I—"

  "I thought you trusted me." Aidan's voice hitched. "But you can't even tell me why, Lee."

  "That's bloody well why!"

  Aidan stopped, startled. Eallair stood up and walked over to him.

  "That's why," he said again, softer this time. "You gav
e me a name, Aidan. And without even meanin’ to, you made it perfect. 'Shelter from the storm', remember? That's what I'm doing. Sheltering you."

  "From what?" Aidan asked.

  Eallair froze, almost like he wasn't expecting the question. Or maybe he was just hoping it wouldn't be asked.

  “From what, Lee?”

  It was like saying the name out loud was a spell in its own right. Eallair’s entire body sagged, all the fight and defiance gone like smoke on a windy day. He rubbed his hand down his face, the light scratch of his stubble the only sound in the yurt, then sighed. "From me. If I said you could use magic, the first bloody thing you'd do is ask me to teach you and I…"

  He looked at the Shaman again. He was observing them silently, his face as blank as ever. Two Rivers seemed to have completely forgotten he wanted them dead and was watching them raptly, the way Carl used to watch the plays he occasionally invited Aidan to.

  Eallair hesitated.

  "Just tell me," Aidan said, closer to begging than he would have admitted. "Please."

  Eallair looked away from them and back at Aidan. "I think you're the only one I would tell," he said, almost to himself.

  Aidan opened his mouth to ask what that meant but then froze as Eallair reached out and brushed a lock of hair off Aidan's forehead. Eallair smiled slightly, then dropped his hand.

  Oh. That’s…

  "You ain't the first wizard I've ever known," Eallair said, drawing Aidan’s thoughts away from gentle touches and what they might mean. "I even tried teachin’ a few, once. Years ago. There…there was this one boy, back in Britannia, he had so much potential and I was so sure he was going to be somethin’ special, somethin’ amazing. And then it all just…went wrong."

  Eallair was looking right at him, but Aidan didn't think he was seeing him at all. He was unfocused, distant, lost somewhere deep inside himself. Any anger Aidan was still feeling blew out like a weak candle. He pushed aside the many questions Eallair's touch raised and focused on the man himself. Eallair was always so quiet and vague about his past. If he was opening up now, Aidan refused to give him anything other than his full attention.