Cara was beautiful and smart, and she could understand what he was going through with his newfound abilities and his new family—more than Mona could ever hope to. Then again, Cara was also his half sister. His relationship to her didn’t seem to matter according to clan law—especially since they both shared the Earth Clan’s royal blood. He tried to work out the twisted logic of his emotions, but soon gave up, admitting that any equation applied to his dilemma was destined to fail.
Love and logic didn’t mix.
He knew that he had to take direction from his heart, but he couldn’t decide on the way it pointed. Frustrated, he tried to put the whole issue out of his mind. Whatever would happen would happen. If Mona and he never spoke again, he’d get over her, and she’d get over him and move on.
For all he knew, she had forgotten about him already.
Snapping out of his daydreaming, he looked up, recognizing the switchback path leading up to the mountain’s exit. With Fenton leading, the three of them started up the rocky trail. Merrick’s chest burned as he tried to keep pace with Fenton and Balach. His lungs were still not fully acclimated to the high altitudes of the Scottish Highlands.
They soon reached the gateway marked by the intricately designed columns carved into the mountain wall and walked outside into the fresh pre-dusk evening. At least it had stopped raining, although the ground was still slippery with mud. He and Balach followed Fenton a couple of hundred meters from the mountain entrance to where the land was pocked with large white boulders and green moss.
Fenton turned to Balach, then pointed to a group of small stones on the ground a few meters away from them. Balach cleared his throat and emitted a quick series of short guttural sounds that should have been too deep for his young throat to make. The stones lifted into the air and floated there, as if gravity had been temporarily suspended.
Merrick was surprised at how normal the scene appeared after only knowing about the existence of magic for such a short time.
“Very good, Balach,” Fenton said.
Fenton raised his hand and spoke sounds that were similar to those Balach had just made. One of the smaller rocks flew over to Fenton, and he grabbed it in mid-flight, holding it lightly in his large hand.
“Tell me what this is.”
“It’s a small stone, shaped like a kidney” Merrick said, “with some moss on it and some wet dirt on its bottom.”
Fenton smiled.
“You’ve described it to me, but you haven’t told me what it truly is—you haven’t given me its name.”
Merrick nodded, but inside he wondered if Fenton was telling him that even stones had names.
“First lesson. Everything that’s natural has a proper way of calling it by name. Things like this stone and the grass and the dirt don’t have individual names like we do—well, some of them do—but in general, the kind of thing they are has a name. When the four dragons made this world, they gave everything and everyone of us a name.”
Fenton pointed at Merrick’s chest.
“Your name and my name have existed since the beginning of time, just waiting for us to be born. The names that the dragons give are so true that there’s no difference between the name of a thing and the thing itself. No difference between our names and our own selves. Since the first day the dragons spoke the world into being, everything that was going to exist in the future was already there. Nothing has ever been created or destroyed since.”
Merrick felt like a civilized man listening to a savage. He thought about evolution and the big bang theory. He didn’t want to offend his teacher, but science was science, and even though something like magic seemed to exist, he wasn’t ready to believe in its mythic origins. To him it was more like a science that he simply didn’t yet understand.
“How did the dragons know that you or even I would one day be born when they were creating the world?” Merrick asked. “How could they know everyone’s name ahead of time?”
“Everything that exists now existed when the world began. You were there and so was I, but the exact combination of energy that makes up you and me wasn’t. The energy that we are made of has been shuffled and reshuffled since the beginning of time until…well, here we are.”
Merrick started to ask another question, but Fenton kept talking.
“Right before we’re born, one of the dragons whispers our creation name into our unborn ears, and for that split second, we understand who we are and what our true nature is. The instant we’re born, well, we forget everything just like it was a dream. That’s why babies cry when they take their first breath, because they’re upset about not being able to remember who they are anymore.”
Fenton sat on a white boulder, still holding the small stone in his hand.
“For the first part of life, a person tries to remember the name that he’s lost, but he can’t do it until he understands himself. At first, he might try to force it—to make himself remember. Eventually, he gives up trying so hard and gets on with living. When he grows into who he really is one day, it comes to him, like a distant memory—with no effort at all.”
Fenton laughed heartily.
“Then he wonders how he could’ve ever forgotten his name in the first place. That’s what you have to do, Merrick. You need to learn who you really are, so you can remember your creation name. You’re gonna need the power of your creation name if you’re gonna stand a chance at defeating your brother.”
“And I can only do this by trying not to remember it, even though I need to remember it as soon as possible.”
“Exactly,” Fenton said, tossing the small stone in the air and catching it again.
Merrick shook his head, the circular logic hurting his brain.
“What’s the name of that stone?” he asked, looking to get back to something he could at least memorize and try to grasp.
Fenton spoke the guttural sounds that named the rock.
Merrick tried to repeat the name. Balach laughed at his attempt, but stopped when Fenton gave him a sharp look.
Fenton repeated it, and Merrick tried again.
“You’re trying too hard to make it sound like a word in your language. It’s a sound, a series of tones on top of each other. You gotta feel them more than hear them. Here, hold the stone in your hand.”
Fenton handed the stone to Merrick.
“Now, close your eyes and remember the sound, and feel the stone in your hand. Don’t think about it. Just say what you feel.”
Merrick opened his eyes. How was he supposed to say something without thinking about it in his head first?
Fenton said the stone’s name again.
“Close your eyes and repeat the sound over and over in your head first,” Balach offered. “That’s how I had to start out before I could do it with a quiet mind.”
Merrick did as Balach suggested. Suddenly, a sharp pain stabbed at his stomach as he doubled over and grunted.
“Excellent,” Fenton said. You must have gotten it just right.”
Merrick looked up.
“Now you understand the stone a little bit more. You internalized its essence and essentially had a rock in your stomach for a second. You’ll be all right. Now try it again, out loud.”
Merrick cleared his throat, trying to remember what the stone had felt like in his stomach.
“Just say it,” Fenton yelled, taking Merrick by surprise. The creation name for the stone blurted out of his mouth. With newfound confidence, he stood up and repeated the name again and once more just to make sure. He turned to Balach and Fenton and smiled.
Balach was not laughing anymore.
“It’s just like computer programming,” Merrick said. “I don’t pronounce the ones and the zeros, but the code creates things just like the dragon tongue does. I think I’m getting the hang of this.”
Fenton squinted at Merrick.
“I don’t know anything about these computers, lad, but whatever works for you, keep doin’ it.”
Over the next tw
o hours, they walked around the mountain, Fenton and Balach picking up different pieces of nature and teaching Merrick the names for each. He caught on faster with each new name, but by the end of the two hours, he felt bruised and sore from internalizing the names. By the end of the lesson, he knew the creation name for three different types of moss, four varieties of stone, dirt, clay, and even one of the species of trees that grew in the rocky soil. Nothing ever happened when he said the names out loud, but Fenton and Balach never let him move onto the next name until they were confident that he was saying each one correctly.
As they lounged on a large boulder that was half sunk into the ground, Merrick ran his hands over the stone’s cool, rough surface.
Fenton looked on in approval.
“Light’s just about gone. We got only one last thing to try and then we’ll stop for the day. I’m going to teach you one word of doing, Merrick. It’s crucial that you take care when you say this, because action is where everything comes together. I’m going to say a word, but don’t repeat it out loud.”
Merrick was exhausted, and his stomach fluttered as his confidence fled. He was just getting the rhythm of the names, and now Fenton was throwing something new at him.
Fenton pronounced the Earth Dragon word for float. Merrick thought that he recognized the sounds as something that Balach had said earlier when he had made the stones rise up into the air. Fenton pronounced it again, reminding Merrick not to repeat it out loud, but to practice it in his head.
Merrick said the word over and over again in his head until he felt like his organs were moving around inside of him, and he was fairly sure that he was saying it correctly.
“I want you to look at that small stone over there. Remember the name for it? It’s the same one you held in your hand when we started today. Look at it, say its name, and then say the word for float.”
Merrick did as Fenton asked, and the small stone floated up about a meter off the ground and hung suspended in the air. Balach slapped him on the back. His concentration broke, and the stone fell to the ground.
“If you don’t stay connected, the normal way of things takes over—in this case, gravity took its course. But, you did good for your first time. I’d say you were a natural, ain’t that right, son?”
Balach nodded and slapped Merrick on the back again.
Merrick was proud that he had done so well. He hopped down from the boulder and was so excited at his success that he decided to try it once again. This time he shouted the name for one of the types of moss he had learned followed by the command for float. All around him, whole sections of moss tore from the ground and from the rocks to which they were attached. He couldn’t believe his eyes. All across the side of the mountain, moss floated silently in the air. He was doing this, and it was magic—his magic.
Fenton grabbed him by the neck and squeezed hard. Merrick winced in pain as moss for a hundred meters fell to the ground with dull thuds.
Fenton turned him around, glaring at him with anger.
“With power comes responsibility. You just ruined a lot of moss with that little trick. So remember this. Just ‘cause you can do something, doesn’t mean you should.”
“It’s just moss,” Merrick whispered.
“That moss is just as much a part of this world as you or me. At least it knows its place. It does its part, and you just tore it up without even thinking about the consequences. For every action, a reaction…no matter how small it might seem to someone as big and mighty as yourself.”
Fenton stepped away from Merrick and looked around.
“Stand over there, by those rocks near the edge of that rise. Do it lad. You got one more lesson today before you’re done.”
Merrick shuffled over to the group of rocks. The rise, as Fenton had called it, looked more like a cliff as he peered over the ledge to the rocky ground some twenty meters below. He turned around to look at Fenton and Balach and felt a familiar sensation in his legs. He looked down to see his feet embedded as part of the rocky soil.
Fenton motioned for Balach to start walking back to the mountain entrance.
“Since you’re so superior to the moss and the rocks, you just tell ‘em to let you go, and we’ll be waitin’ for you back home.
Merrick started to panic. Memories of being stuck in the boulders, helpless until Cara had come to rescue him earlier flashed through his mind. He already knew that nothing he had learned today was going to help him get out of this. Fenton was trying to teach him humility, and it was working.
Merrick watched as Fenton and Balach receded into the distance. He knew that Fenton would come back for him, eventually. He had to. But, what if he didn’t? The Drayoom probably didn’t think anything of staying outside all night, but he was already getting cold to the bone, barely able to feel his legs. Despite the cold, he started to sweat. His mouth turned dry as dust, and he couldn’t swallow.
He tried to clear his head and to remember the names of the stones and the soil around him. He closed his eyes and heard their creation names in his own voice. He whispered them out loud, but nothing happened. He needed an action word, and he knew only one.
He gently spoke the words to make the soil and the stones float. As soon as he did so, he felt excruciating pain. His feet felt like they were being ripped from his legs as the soil and stones tried to leave the ground with his limbs still attached. He desperately tried to tell the rocks and the soil to stop floating, but he didn’t know how. Finally, he passed out from the pain.
When he awoke, it was dark, and he was shivering and wet. Fenton hadn’t come back for him after all. He was alone and still trapped by the rocks around his lower legs. Even though only his legs were encased in the rocky soil, his entire body felt as cold as the ground. He was beginning to think that he might not live to see the sunrise.
He had finally found a home where he could fit in, and now he was going to die because of one stupid mistake he made. The anger rose within him—his blood warming his face. He started breathing so hard that he could hear his own pulse. He wasn’t going to stay here. If Fenton wanted to play this hard, then he would play this hard as well.
Closing his eyes, he did not think of the names for the stones and the moss he had learned earlier. Instead, he remembered the alley where he had first called on his own internal power—his Fire Magic. He reached under his shirt and touched the stone that hung around his neck, supposedly from his father, Ohman.
He closed his fist around it and remembered how his gut had felt in the alley when those thugs were beating him to a pulp and hurting Mona in front of him.
With sudden ferocity, he screamed, shattering the silence of the night sky. The air around him flashed with the intense bright white line of a lightning bolt that struck his feet. Rock and soil burned, and debris flew all around him, but he was unhurt. He was still breathing hard when he opened his eyes—the smell of sulfur surrounded him, and his face contorted in anger.
He was free.
He moved to place his weight on one of his unsteady legs, but the ground beneath him crumbled, and he started to slide backward toward the edge of the cliff.
The lightning had disrupted the fragile tuft of ground at the cliff’s edge. With no time to think, he threw himself to the ground as his feet continued to slide. He grasped at the stones and the soil but found no steady purchase. Finally, his right hand caught the edge of a larger rock that seemed to still be firmly set in the soil. He dug his knees into the side of the cliff, trying to create a foothold, but the dirt was too loose and simply fell off in clumps with his attempts.
As he hung from his fingertips, he tried to steady his breathing, saving his strength for a final burst to pull himself up to the ground above. He took a deep breath and pulled with everything he had. The stone to which he clung came loose, and he felt himself falling.
He closed his eyes as his limbs flailed at the air around him. He waited to hit the hard ground below, but her never did. He opened his eyes to see that he hims
elf was floating as light as a feather, with Fenton and Balach standing high above him at the cliff’s edge.
With a wave of Fenton’s hand, Merrick began to rise up until he was safely over solid ground. Suddenly, he was heavy again and he crumpled to the ground at Fenton’s feet.
He slowly stood and faced Fenton, still angry that his teacher had left him there to die.
“We were just beyond that rise the whole time. Waiting for you to learn your final lesson of the day. Then you summoned the lightning and almost got yourself killed. I’d say you haven’t learned a thing.”
Merrick didn’t know what to say. He and Fenton stood there, face-to-face. Slowly, Merrick’s rage faded to embarrassment.
“I thought I was going to die.”
“Thinking had nothing to do with it. If we’d been standing any closer, either me or my boy would be dead or near to it right now. You aren’t even close to knowing enough to do what you just did.”
Just then, Fenton looked at the divinium pendant hanging from Merrick’s neck. He grabbed it and ripped it from him. The force of the breaking leather tong breaking pulled his neck forward painfully.
“If I had known you had this, I would have taken it away earlier.”
Merrick reached out his hand.
“My father…Ohman…gave that to me when I was a baby. I promise I won’t use it again, but it’s mine!”
Fenton turned and glared at Balach, who was standing with his head bowed, staring at the scorched Earth around their feet.
“You’ll get this back when you’ve learned enough to use it wisely. How are you feeling by the way? A little stiff, like you’ve aged a bit, I’d wager. When we get home, look at yourself in the mirror and see if you notice the year or so that you just lost from using your little charm there. Keep using the stone like that and you’ll die of old age before I teach you anything.”
Fenton turned around and started walking back to the mountain. Balach looked at Merrick and then quickly turned away to follow his father.
The Conservation of Magic Page 16