War of Magic (Dual Magics Book 4)

by Meredith Mansfield

  Theklan groped for an explanation. Something he could understand . . . and fix. “Could . . . could she be angry that I didn’t come to see her as soon as I got here?” He could understand that.

  Lucina snorted. “Well, if that’s it, I’ll straighten her out soon enough. You were in no shape to go wandering around the village looking for her. And, in any case, she was out riding with the herdsmen today, so you wouldn’t have found her anyway.”

  Danar smiled at Theklan. “I’m sure it’ll be all right. You need to finish that and get back to rest so you’ll be ready to help Vatar tomorrow.”

  Theklan picked at his food. “I was going to take some back for Vatar and Thekila anyway. For when they wake up.”

  “There’ll be plenty more,” Lucina said. “You finish that. I still remember how much Vatar could eat at your age.”

  Theklan wasn’t really hungry anymore, but he chewed and swallowed anyway, trying to believe that everything would be all right in the morning. Maybe he was still dreaming—having a nightmare. He’d never seen Kiara act like that before. All right. Maybe his dreams of their reunion had been a little too . . . hopeful. But he’d never even thought of something like this.

  ~

  Theklan had just stepped out of the hut the next morning, still feeling a little lethargic, when he saw Kiara coming towards him, carrying Jadar and leading Zavar and Savara. Despite the nervous flutter in his stomach, he smiled. “Fair skies, Kiara. Are you feeling better today?”

  “I’m fine,” she said in clipped tones.

  Uh oh. “Go on in,” he told Zavar and Savara. “Vatar and Thekila are just waking up. They’ll be very glad to see you.”

  He waited while the twins, accompanied by Savara’s happy squeal, jumped down into the hut, then closed the door flap. “I thought you’d be as glad to see me as I am to see you, Kiara. What’s wrong?”

  “You have to ask?”

  “Yes. I have no idea why you seem to be angry with me. I just wish I did. Maybe then I’d know how to make up for it.”

  “I don’t know how you would make up for kissing another girl!”

  Theklan felt as if the world was tilting. He had no idea what she was talking about. That didn’t make any sense at all. “I haven’t ki—” Then he remembered Sharila kissing him.

  “See. You can’t even deny it,” Kiara said.

  “I have never kissed anyone but you.” It was true. All right, he’d been so surprised that he’d responded to Sharila—for just a moment. But she’d kissed him. Not the other way around.

  “I saw you!”

  Now he really was confused. He certainly hadn’t kissed anyone else here at Zeda. Sky above and earth below! He’d been asleep practically the whole time since he’d arrived. And Sharila was the only other girl who’d ever kissed him. There wasn’t any way Kiara could have seen that. Maybe it wasn’t just his body that was still sluggish. Maybe his brain was still fuzzy, too. “I don’t understand.”

  Kiara thrust Jadar into his arms. “Well, I don’t know what else you expect me to say.” She turned and stomped off.

  Theklan stood staring at her retreating form. “I don’t understand.” He was vaguely aware that Vatar and Thekila had come out of the hut and stood on either side of him.

  Vatar took Jadar’s struggling little body from Theklan’s limp arms.

  “I really haven’t kissed anyone else. I wouldn’t. Sharila kissed me—trying to convince me to take her back to the Valley, but . . .” Theklan realized he was babbling and stopped himself.

  Vatar put a hand on his shoulder, but he looked across at Thekila. “I know how much it hurts. There’s no physical pain like it.”

  Theklan took a step forward. “I have to find her. Make her understand.”

  Thekila put a restraining hand on his arm. “Not . . . not right now. Trust me. Whether she has reason to be or not, she’s too angry right now to hear you.” She looked up at Vatar. “No matter how much it hurts, you have to give her a little time.”

  Theklan shook his head, but didn’t chase after Kiara. There was something . . . something about what she’d said that bothered him. Not just because the accusation was untrue. Something else. But he couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

  Chapter 32: Rare Talent

  The next day, Kiara strode purposefully toward Vatar’s hut. She’d overheard her parents talking about the news Vatar had brought. She’d made up her mind last night what she wanted to do and she needed to do it before she had time for second thoughts.

  “It’s too bad that only one of us can do that.” Theklan’s voice.

  She hadn’t reckoned on Theklan being here. She’d heard that he’d moved into the Eagle Clan men’s hut yesterday or she might not have come. Kiara almost turned around, but . . . no. She’d already resolved not to let Theklan—or memories of Theklan, or regrets about Theklan, or second thoughts about Theklan—rule her life one more moment. She drew in a deep breath and stepped forward.

  Ignoring Theklan, she addressed herself directly to her brother. “I want to help.”

  “Kiara—” Theklan started, one hand out in supplication.

  She cut him off. “I’m not here to talk to you. I don’t have anything to say to you after what I saw.”

  Theklan’s brows knit. “You can’t have seen anything. There wasn’t anything to see. I don’t understand.”

  “She looked I bet,” Savara said.

  “Looked at what?” Theklan demanded. “There wasn’t anything to look at because I haven’t kissed anyone else.”

  “Looked like Papa does when he’s gone but he watches us anyway,” Savara said.

  Vatar swiveled to look at the little girl. “What do you mean?”

  Savara pursed her lips, glanced at Kiara, and said, “She wanted to tell him first. I said I wouldn’t tell.”

  “Tell what?” Vatar asked.

  Savara looked up to Kiara.

  Vatar pivoted to face his sister, too. “Tell what?”

  Kiara sighed. “While you were gone . . . I didn’t plan it. I didn’t know it was possible.” She drew in a deep breath. “I was upset because you wouldn’t let me go with you to bring Theklan back and, unlike you, I couldn’t feel less cut off from him through magic.” She shot a venomous look at Theklan. “Now, I don’t know why I thought it mattered. Savara asked why I was sad and I told her about my magic being blocked. She got kind of a funny look on her face, said she could see what was blocking it, and did something.”

  “I looked,” Savara said. “Just like when I looked at what was wrong with my bird. And I fixed it. It was a lot easier than fixing my bird.”

  Vatar blinked, taking this in. His expression turned almost . . . grim, though Kiara couldn’t figure out why.

  “So, now I can use my magic. Though . . . I don’t know how, really. But you can teach me and then I’ll be able to help with . . . whatever you’re going to do,” Kiara said.

  Theklan rubbed his forehead. “Far Sight, is that what she means? But that still doesn’t make any sense. You can’t have seen—”

  “I saw you kissing that red-haired girl. The one you brought back from the Valley,” Kiara interrupted. “Just a few days before you came back here.”

  “Sharila? I didn’t kiss her!” Theklan paused a moment and went on a little less certainly. “She kissed me. She was trying to persuade me not to leave her in Tysoe.”

  Kiara huffed. “Well, it sure didn’t look like you objected to her kissing you, then.”

  Theklan’s look at Kiara was a challenge. “But if you saw that, you must have seen me push her away, too.”

  Kiara blinked once and swallowed. No. She was not going to entertain any more doubts. She was done with that. “So you say. All I saw was you holding her.”

  “For an instant, maybe,” Theklan protested. “I was startled. I mean, she’s been a good friend, but there’s never been anything more between us. And I don’t want anything more with her. I love you.”

  Kiara bit her lip a
nd turned back to Vatar. She wasn’t ready to argue over this right now. “So, can you teach me so I can help?”

  Vatar drew in a deep breath. “That’s up to Pa and Mother, isn’t it? Not the training, itself, perhaps. But whether you can be part of this fight.”

  Kiara tossed her head. “I told you before, I’ve been considered a woman since before Theklan’s manhood test. I . . . just never moved into the women’s hut because I . . . wasn’t ready to be courted by any of the young men.” Still wasn’t, but that was beside the point.

  “Certainly we’ll teach you,” Thekila said. “Vatar will be busy training his apprentices. But Theklan and I can teach you, when our other duties permit. How much help you can be . . . will depend on what Powers you have and how fast you can learn.”

  Kiara bit her lip and pointedly didn’t look at Theklan. “I’d rather you taught me.”

  Theklan scowled, but no one answered for a moment. Vatar and Thekila stared at each other—like they were talking to each other and leaving her out.

  Kiara stamped her foot. “I’m right here, you know. I’m sure it’s as rude to use Far Speech as it would be to talk in front of me like I’m not here.”

  Both Vatar and Thekila blinked and looked at her.

  The corners of Thekila’s lips turned up. She waved in Vatar’s direction, like passing a ball in jarai. “She’s your sister.”

  Vatar drew in a breath. “First, Thekila and I communicate on a level beyond Far Speech. We’re bound. It’s a much more intimate connection. We can sometimes keep our thoughts from leaking through to one another if we try, but never our feelings. We weren’t discussing you, exactly. Thekila was trying to ease my concerns about training you.” He held up a hand to forestall her reply. “I know just how hard it is to have to hide my magic among the Dardani. And Theklan is an example of what can happen if you fail.” He glanced back at Thekila. “Neither of you will keep me from worrying about that. But, Thekila is right, too. You have use of your magic, now. So you need to be trained. You’ll be less of a danger to yourself and others,” he looked over at Theklan, “if you know what you’re doing.

  “Second, if you mean to accept us as your teachers, you will have to learn not to challenge us, at least when it comes to magic. I wouldn’t accept that attitude from an apprentice, and I wouldn’t expect either Thekila or Theklan to accept it from you. Get used to it. I guarantee you won’t like some of the things we’ll ask of you.” He smiled. “I know you. You can barely stand to work in the clan’s vegetable patch for a day. You are going to hate the kind of focusing exercises that are necessary to be able to access your magic no matter what else is going on around you. But they are necessary. It’s where I had to start. And you’ll have to do them whether you like them or not if you intend to learn. Even Savara has had to practice them, since she’s shown signs of Healing Talent. If she can do it without complaint, I expect you to as well.

  “Third, if you want to learn fast enough to actually help when and if the Exiles attack, then you’ll have to accept whichever one of us is available to teach you. Thekila and I expect to be fairly busy over the next month or so—and not just with my blacksmith students. And none of us know how much time we’ll have to prepare. There will be times when Theklan is the only one available to work with you. If that’s not acceptable, then we’ll still teach you, when we can. But it won’t have the same priority and you probably won’t learn much until after we deal with the Exiles—assuming we win. If we don’t . . . it might not matter. But likely none of us will be available to teach you in that case.”

  Vatar paused to draw a deep breath, glancing back at Thekila. “Fourth, because you are my sister and therefore a descendant of Taleus and Calpe, it’s possible you may also have a particular rare Talent that I possess. If you do, it could be critical to our plans.”

  A crucial ability? Kiara stepped forward eagerly.

  Vatar held up his hand again. “But before we can even try to find out if you do, you need to work on those exercises to gain at least minimal control over your magic.” He waved her toward Thekila and ducked out of the hut.

  ~

  Kiara huffed to herself, trying to control her frustration. It was counterproductive, but she hated being stuck in this hut all day, attempting to meditate. It wasn’t so bad when the children were there—even when they were napping—though, admittedly, they made it harder to concentrate when they were awake. But alone like this . . . it was worse than weeding the vegetable patch. She felt like she should be learning something useful for the battle.

  So far she’d only proved what she couldn’t do. Oh, she could use Far Speech and Far Sight at least reasonably consistently now. But she couldn’t move objects by thinking about them, the way Theklan could. Everyone had said they didn’t expect her to be able to do that. Apparently it was only Valson who had that ability and her Talents, such as they were, would come from the Fasallon. But there had to be something useful she could do. What use was meditation going to be in a fight for survival?

  Vatar ducked through the hide that covered the door and stepped down into the hut, Thekila right behind him.

  “How’s the meditation going?” he asked.

  Kiara snarled at him in irritation.

  “That well?” Thekila smiled sympathetically. “I know it’s hard, Kiara. But it is necessary. If you’re going to be able to use your magic while things are happening all around you—which is usually the case, not just during a battle—you need a way to clear your head and calm yourself.”

  Kiara grimaced, but nodded understanding.

  Vatar sat down across from her. “Now we need to test for another Talent. The one I mentioned that first day. It’s a rare talent, but your magic comes from Taleus and Calpe. This was one of Calpe’s gifts. So there’s at least a chance you’ve inherited it, too, like me. It could be a very great help to us. In fact, it will affect our whole strategy.”

  That sounded better. Something useful at last. “I’m ready.”

  “All right, Thekila is going to Transform slowly, so you can see it. Once she’s done, I want you to close your eyes and picture her true form in your mind. Ready?”

  Kiara nodded, excited to finally be seeing—and maybe learning—some real magic. But she had no idea how unready she really was. Thekila sat down next to Vatar and slowly her petite body reformed itself, shrinking as it did, and flowing into a different shape altogether. The hairs on Kiara’s arms rose as she watched. When Thekila finished, an eagle—an improbably gleaming white eagle—stood in front of her. She gasped and scooted back a little. It took a moment for her heart to stop racing. Something about the eagle felt subtly wrong, a niggling feeling of falseness. But Kiara was seized by curiosity, too. “Can you fly?”

  The eagle shrieked at her impatiently.

  “Stay on task,” Vatar said. “Questions later. Unless you have a question about what I asked you to do, that is.”

  Kiara practiced the calming and focusing exercises they’d been making her do. When she had control of herself again, she did what he’d asked. When she opened her eyes, Thekila sat cross-legged in front of her, smiling.

  “Very good. And, to answer your question, yes, I can fly when there’s a need. How do you think we got here from Tysoe so quickly?”

  “Will . . . will I be able to do that, someday? Change myself?” Kiara asked.

  “Maybe,” Thekila said. “Eventually. Though you’ll likely find the lion easier than an eagle. But that’s the hardest of all Talents to learn and we don’t have time for it now. You certainly won’t be able to learn it before we have to deal with the Exiles.”

  “All right,” Vatar said. “Now for the real question. Did you . . . feel anything . . . odd about the eagle? Other than surprise.”

  Kiara bit her lip, feeling her way. From Vatar’s intensity this was a more important question than it sounded. “It felt . . . untrue.”

  Vatar let out his breath. “Good.”

  But he didn’t look like it w
as good at all. What was going on here?

  Vatar and Thekila traded one of those looks, then Thekila got up and left the hut.

  Kiara looked to Vatar for enlightenment. “What . . . ?”

  “We’re going to wait here for a few moments. Then we’re going to stroll over to my hut and try another experiment.”

  “Okay.”

  Kiara clasped her hands firmly in her lap and plunged ahead with her next question. “You said it was good before. That I could sense something about Thekila’s eagle. But you don’t look like you think it’s good at all.”

  Vatar sighed. “We haven’t begun to finalize our plans yet. But I’m afraid . . . I have a feeling . . . a lot of the battle is going to rest on our shoulders, Kiara. Yours and mine. And we might not be able to keep it a secret. After this, you may not be able to hide your abilities from the Dardani. Most of them won’t understand. Some will hate and fear you. And I haven’t figured out how to protect you from that, yet.”

  Kiara slapped the grass mat by her knees. “I don’t want to be protected. I want to help.”

  Vatar shook his head, but he didn’t say anything. After another few moments, as if at some signal invisible to her, he stood up and held out a hand to help her up. “Let’s go.”

  Kiara stepped down into the hut Vatar shared with Thekila and their children and stopped. Two white eagles sat staring at her through beady golden eyes. Thekila was certainly one of them. And Theklan had to be the other. But they were almost identical.

  “Can you tell which one is which?” Vatar asked.

  Kiara shook her head. Well, on closer examination, one bird was slightly larger than the other, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Among real birds, the female was often larger than the male. She wasn’t completely certain if that was true of eagles. She wasn’t sure it wasn’t either. “No.”

  Vatar nodded. “Good. Now, I want you to try to do the same thing, only by a different method. I want you to use that sense of wrongness. Think of the Transformation as if it’s a mask and try to peel it back, to reveal the truth. Try it.”