The Eighth Born: Book 1 of the Pankaran Chronicles

by C. Night

  Rhyen woke bright eyed and excited the next morning. It was before dawn, and he crept down to the kitchen, trying to silence his steps lest he wake his master. His muscles were stiff and sore, as though he had exerted himself physically, but in actuality he had simply stood on a hilltop for all of yesterday. But despite the ache that ran through his every movement, Rhyen was eager to start wielding magic again.

  He drummed his fingers against his mug impatiently. He closed his eyes, remembering the intoxicating feeling of the magic shivering through him. He wanted to use it again so badly that he was sweating with the effort of just sitting there. The tea grew cold in his cup as he sat, tapping his toes and rocking slightly, staring out the window at the fresh coating of white over the ground. It had snowed quite a lot for late winter. It was almost spring. But, after all, he had never experienced a winter in Avernade before. Perhaps spring always came late.

  Rhyen didn’t even bother with breakfast. He laced his boots and pulled on his jacket and cloak, so he would be ready when Cazing shuffled down the stairs. He imagined again the leaf floating through the air on his command. Rhyen looked around for it and saw it lying next to Cazing’s pipe. He gingerly reached out for it. It was still green and young, though not quite so fresh, and the juice from the broken stem had frozen and stuck in a sticky mess on the table. How did he manage to make the leaf new again? And didn’t Cazing say that it would become brown and old again after a few hours? Rhyen frowned and drew his thumb across the serrated edge. He sat there, lost in thought.

  “That is a terrible idea,” grumped Cazing from behind him, clumping down the ladder. He shot a glare at the fireplace. “And why didn’t you make a fire?”

  “What’s a terrible idea? And I did! See, I had tea and everything,” Rhyen quickly countered, holding out the mug as evidence.

  Cazing took one look at it and snorted. “Look how black it is! That tea must have been steeping for an hour, maybe two. No wonder the fire went out again.”

  Rhyen glanced out the window in surprise. Sure enough, there was a glow on the snow that could only mean the sun was low in the sky. Morning had come without his notice. The time he spent imagining magic had passed very quickly. “What’s a terrible idea?” he asked again.

  Cazing gestured at his clothes. “This is… what is this? Why are you wearing that?”

  Rhyen looked down. He was fully dressed for the snowy outdoors. “I’m ready to go outside is all. I want to practice more magic,” he added uncertainly.

  “Well, it’s all good and fine to be excited, but it’s terribly stupid to put on all your things inside and then sit next to a fire.” Cazing rolled his eyes at the empty fireplace. His face went blank and immediately the flames burst merrily into life. “Even one that’s gone out.”

  Rhyen grinned broadly when Cazing magically lit the fire. Someday I’ll do that! His thought only further motivated him to practice magic. “I’ll be okay, I’m not hot,” he assured his master.

  Cazing raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Well, if you’re certain,” he said in a knowing sort of voice.

  “When do we start?”

  “Rhyen, I haven’t even had breakfast. I was planning on eating, and drinking something hot, and maybe even reading a little before we go out…” Rhyen’s face fell, and Cazing laughed. “All right, all right—let me grab something quick and I’ll eat it on the way.”

  As he was rummaging in the kitchen, selecting his breakfast, Cazing’s gaze fell on the leaf. His eyes widened in shock and his face paled. He put down the bun and reached out to touch it. As he did so, he seemed to think better of it and let his hand fall. He looked at Rhyen out of the corner of his eye.

  “It didn’t return to its original state,” Rhyen said unnecessarily. “It’s still green and young.”

  Cazing collected himself and said briskly, “So it is! But no matter—I’m sure the after-effect of the magic is just taking a while to wear off.” He spoke easily, but Rhyen got the impression that his master was very taken aback, and more than a little worried. The old sorcerer smiled hastily and snatched up the leaf, removing it from view and tucking it into his pocket. He grabbed his bagel and collected his winter things. “Shall we?” he asked when he was bundled, shooing Rhyen to the door.

  Rhyen realized at once what Cazing had meant by the stupidity of wearing winter things in the house. No sooner had they stepped outside then he started shivering. He had gotten used to wearing his winter things at room temperature, and now they did him no good in the winter weather. His toes were frozen, and his cloak seemed no thicker than a thin cotton tunic. Cazing gave a great shout of laughter as Rhyen rewrapped his scarf tighter about his neck.

  “See what I mean? Lesson learned, I’ll bet.”

  Rhyen lifted his chin and ignored his master good-naturedly. He was very pleased they were wading through the snow up the hill—he was going to try magic again! When they crowned the hill, Cazing kicked some snow aside to make a little clearing where they could stand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small dried flower. He held it in his palm for Rhyen to inspect. It was very delicate and a cloudy white that must have once been blue. Cazing turned his hand and let it drop to the ground.

  “Try again what you did yesterday, Rhyen.” Cazing lit his pipe and shoved his hands in his pocket. He took a step back and waited.

  Rhyen cleared his mind—it came so easily now—and let confidence and clarity fill his thoughts. He was trembling with the anticipation of using magic. When the picture was formed fully in his mind, he calmly spoke, “float.” The flower shot into the air.

  Rhyen’s knees almost buckled. The magic ran through him in undulating rivers, and he had never in his life felt so satisfied. He moaned happily, all the while watching the little flower climb into the sky. He was feeling so good that he, daringly, imagined the flower twirling in circles, and without thinking he muttered “twirl” under his breath. To his delight, the flower did just that, spinning cheerfully in loop-de-loops through the air as if propelled by a mischievous breeze. Rhyen smiled so broadly his chapped lips started to crack.

  Cazing’s eyebrows had almost disappeared in his hair. He pulled his hands from his pockets and clapped them together. “Very well done! I’m impressed. I imagine you’re doing those circles on purpose?”

  Rhyen grinned. “Yes, sir, I am.” He concentrated, and the flower began moving counterclockwise. It was so easy—Rhyen didn’t even need to speak. The magic felt so right, seeping through him like tea in water. Rhyen felt a craving—he knew he would never again be contented unless he used magic. It was a deep need he couldn’t explain, but he gladly pushed the limits, made the little flower dance through the air in complicated patterns. “This is wonderful, Master.”

  Cazing had turned his attention to Rhyen’s face, and a mixture of concern, shrewd appraisal, and awe was etched across his features. After a few minutes more, he commanded, “That’s enough for now.”

  Rhyen reluctantly let the flower fall to the ground. The magic ceased within him. Rhyen instantly felt the anger and hate he had experienced yesterday roll through him. He clenched his teeth and focused on clearing his head. Cazing was silent as Rhyen wrestled with his Opposite, but eventually Rhyen stopped sweating and breathed easier. He had pushed his anger aside.

  “Good job, Rhyen.” Cazing grinned in a sort of forced way. “You are… extremely talented. More so than I had even dreamed.” He was looking odd again—he seemed sad, and perhaps rather righteously pleased, but fear played quietly in the shadows of his expressions. Rhyen cocked his head questioningly.

  Cazing shook his head and smiled. He was himself again. “I am very pleased with you.” Rhyen grinned and ducked his head, half modest and half triumphant. “I barely expected you to conquer your Opposite, but you have exceeded my expectations immensely. You managed to keep your focus while talking with me, you expanded your original thought, and in the
end you even added a new aspect without speaking. You have just proved your power, son. I had no idea… but you did better than someone with a year of training under their belt could be expected to do. And you’ve only had one day!”

  Rhyen nodded distractedly. He was happy that he had impressed his master, but Cazing’s words started to fall on deaf ears. He had felt the rush that came with magic wielding, tasted the sweet sensation of it channeling through him. And then he’d had to stop. Rhyen shrugged his shoulders and scratched his neck, shaking his head back and forth. He was trying to pay attention to Cazing, but all he really wanted was to use magic again. Rhyen inhaled slowly, imagining it. It took him a moment to realize that Cazing had stopped talking. “Hmm?” he grunted. “Sorry, what did you say?”

  Cazing was standing quite still, watching him with clinical eyes. “Addicting, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

  Rhyen felt itchy. He scratched his arms and his head. It took all of his willpower to focus, to keep his mind clear. He wanted to use magic so badly that he felt nauseous. The anger started to ebb forward again. “What?” he asked again. He was having a hard time concentrating.

  “It’s the magic. It’s intoxicating.”

  Rhyen looked at him, his head clearing ever so slightly. “Yes,” he gasped, agreeing.

  “I know. Nothing feels better than magic. And now that you’ve used it, you have to keep on using it, to the fullest extent you are able. And it feels good.”

  “There’s nothing like it on earth!”

  Cazing laughed hollowly. “That’s because it’s not from earth, Rhyen. Remember? Magic is of the gods. But nothing is that good without a price.”

  Rhyen closed his eyes. “My Opposite.”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Cazing confirmed. His eyes were distant, and Rhyen could see his teacher wrestling with the desire for magic and the fear of his Opposite, just as he himself was. “You see, on the one hand you get to experience something unbelievably amazing, and you have to experience it every day for the rest of your life. If you don’t, you will die. Because the magic will get out of you, regardless whether you channel it or not. But it doesn’t matter, because you will channel it—there is nothing you’d rather do than magic, yes?”

  Rhyen nodded.

  Cazing went on, “But the price you pay is always having to keep at bay your Opposite. Do you know what that is?”

  “Balance.” Rhyen croaked.

  Cazing smiled. “Yes. Balance. Everything, Rhyen, needs balance. In fact, everything is balanced—when magic unbalances you, your Opposite comes into play, grounding you back in the reality of humanity. And you have to use your magic, so you will always have to deal with your Opposite. It is a vicious cycle, one without beginning or end.”

  It was again becoming difficult for Rhyen to keep his focus. His Opposite was crowding the very edges of his mind, and his desire for the magic was clouding his will. “Will it always be like this?”

  “Yes and no. You will always have this struggle, I’m afraid. But, as I told you yesterday, when you gain experience, you will also gain a sort of muscle memory. And with that practice, you will find the struggle easier, as your body and mind subconsciously protect you from this imbalance.”

  Rhyen couldn’t help it—his knees gave way beneath him. He was utterly spent with the effort from keeping both magic and Opposite at bay. Cazing sank to the ground with him. Rhyen stayed like that for a very long time, until at last both desire and Opposite faded back into the recesses of his mind. He was exhausted, but no longer in danger of, as his master would say, becoming unbalanced. He shakily looked up at the old sorcerer.

  “I...I think I might be done for today.” He admitted. If he wasn’t so tired he would have been ashamed. Surely Cazing would be disappointed in him.

  But Cazing nodded his head. “I think that is a very wise choice.” He slowly got to his feet, then reached his hand down and helped Rhyen climb to his. “Besides, I’m ready for supper.” Rhyen opened his eyes wide in shock. Sure enough, the sun was red and spilling bloodily over the snow, sinking behind the mountains.

  “It’s sunset,” he said disbelievingly. “How is that possible?”

  Cazing clapped Rhyen on the shoulder and steered him toward the Tower. They stumped through the frozen white. Rhyen realized he was numb with cold. “It takes a long time to recover from using magic beyond your strength, like you did today.”

  Rhyen sighed. “I didn’t know I went beyond my strength.”

  Cazing smiled and looked away. “That’s the trouble with magic—it’s very easy to go beyond your strength. It feels so good you don’t even notice you are doing it.”

  * * *

  The next few days were spent in much the same way, with one very significant exception: Rhyen stayed within the bounds of his strength. Cazing watched him closely as he levitated different objects in the air. With a firm voice that allowed no reluctance, he would frequently order his student to stop, and Rhyen would let fall whatever he was flying.

  While Rhyen understood these interruptions, he still felt the twinge of anger that accompanied the ceasing of every spell he worked. But he noticed during these breaks that he was often weary to the point of exhaustion, so he never argued with Cazing. He was not eager to repeat the experience of overstretching his strength.

  The lust for magic was ever present in Rhyen’s mind, but even in the first short week of wielding Rhyen learned to ignore the urge. He repeated firmly to himself that he would use magic again, and that knowledge helped him calm his desire. Cazing sympathized with him as he too felt the overwhelming need to channel the magic. He reminded Rhyen, again and again, to “shrug it off.” Rhyen took his words to heart and followed through with the action. As a result, and completely unintentionally, Rhyen figured out another tactic to keep clear his mind.

  Cazing smoked before he did complicated magic. It cleared his mind and helped him regain his focus. Rhyen found that shrugging and rolling his shoulders helped him do the same. When his master had told him to shrug off the feelings of his addiction and his Opposite, he hadn’t really expected Rhyen to follow through. But the action of slowly relaxing his shoulders had been the catalyst for Rhyen’s wielding skills, and after this discovery, he never failed to do any magic Cazing asked. With his head clear, Rhyen found it easy to find the right words for the task. He felt unstoppable.

  After moving the leaf, Cazing had Rhyen levitate other plant objects—twigs, flowers, even tea leaves. Rhyen curiously asked his master why they were focusing on plants.

  “When doing something you’ve never done before, I find it easier if you have done something similar. Would you agree?”

  “I suppose…”

  “The first bit of controlled, intentional magic you ever did was to make a leaf fly, right?” Cazing rhetorically asked. “So, it makes sense to continue along that same line. That’s why we’ve been focused on flying plant things. It is the easiest for you right now.”

  Rhyen thought about his words. “Easiest? Does that mean I have an affinity for Plants, then? Because I find it easiest to manipulate plants?” He began to get excited. He so deeply wanted an affinity, regardless of what Cazing said about it being unnecessary.

  But the sorcerer shook his head. “No, Rhyen. I don’t think your affinity is for Plants—”

  “For Air, then!” Rhyen interrupted excitedly. “Because I’ve only been flying things!”

  “First of all, don’t jump from a Lesser to a High Element like that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” Cazing explained with his characteristic dry patience, “It makes you sound foolish.”

  “How so?” Rhyen protested indignantly.

  “If someone has mastery over one of the High Elements, they can control every Lesser Element that falls beneath it. So if you really did have an affinity for Air, you would be able to wield against an
y and all Elements that are under it—Wind, Temptation, Freedom, Flight. Any Element associated with Air.”

  “What does that have to do with Plants?”

  “Nothing! That’s what I’m telling you. If you had really been thinking you might have an affinity for Plants, then you should be considering other Life Elements. Like Vitality or Growth. You shouldn’t have jumped over to a different category of Elements entirely. And certainly not the High Element!” Cazing snorted. “Air indeed!”

  Rhyen rolled his shoulders back, appropriately chastised. Regaining his dignity, he tried again. “So my affinity is for a Lesser Life Element?”

  “What makes you you think that?” Cazing asked with honest curiosity.

  Rhyen’s mouth fell open. “You! You just said I should consider a Life Element!”

  “As an example, Rhyen!” Cazing said in exasperation. “Gods, I was only trying to remind you to think before you speak. You are too focused on affinities. Seriously, there’s no real point in trying to figure yours out until you dabble in all the Elements. Once you’ve tried them all, you’ll be able to see which ones you can and can’t wield, and which one comes easiest for you. You’ve only tried invoking a few Elements, for crying out loud!”

  “But—then—” Rhyen ran a hand over his golden head. “All right, fine. But let’s stop with the plants. Let me try something else so I can work with a different Element.”

  Cazing looked scandalized. “I should think not! Listen, Rhyen, there’s a reason we’re sticking with plants, and it’s because levitating plant-like things will be easiest for you right now simply because you have some experience doing so. It has nothing to do with you wanting an affinity! And—I honestly don’t know how many times you need me to remind you—not everyone has an affinity. A thousand years and more ago, before the Pankara Stone was broken, almost everyone had an affinity because that Element ran stronger in some families. But now, without the Stone, our magical capabilities are no longer as strong. And magical blood has been diluted as people have married and had children with people of different affinities, or with no magic at all.”