by Joseph Lallo
All too soon, the sun disappeared from the sky. It was time. Deacon led Myranda to a hut near the cliffside, Myn in tow. Unlike the others, which were mostly wood, this hut was entirely constructed of stone. Solomon emerged from within. As he did, others began to appear, most notably Ayna. They formed a wide circle around the scorched ground in front of the hut that could only be the training ground.
"Why are these people here?" Myranda asked Deacon.
"To observe," he answered. "As I have said numerous times, this is a first. In Entwell, anything out of the ordinary is of great interest to us."
"Ignore them. Sit, and concentrate," Solomon instructed.
Myranda took a seat on the ground. Myn mistook this for a sign that it was time to praise her, and fairly climbed atop her. A few "words" from Solomon caused her to grudgingly move to the side.
"What are the words?" Myranda asked.
"Words?" Solomon replied.
"I need to know the words of the spell before I can concentrate on it," she said.
A murmur swept through the group of observers. Deacon covered his face with his hand and shook his head quietly. Ayna was less subtle. She laughed an obnoxious, piercing laugh.
"Incantations! The girl only knows incantations!" she said breathlessly.
As calm as always, Solomon explained their reaction.
"Once a student has moved beyond the level of beginner, incantations are rarely used," he said.
"They are the work of children and fools!" Ayna chimed in.
"What else can I do?" she asked.
"Concentrate and I will guide you," the dragon said.
Myranda clutched the locket about her neck. It had mercifully not been lost during her plunge into the icy water. She had only just closed her eyes when Solomon's powerful voice asked her to stop.
"Let me see that," he said.
He had not changed his tone at all, but for some reason the merest request from this creature was like a firm demand from any other. He approached and put two of his finger-like claws behind the crystal, inspecting it closely. Suddenly, he pulled it away. The motion was smooth and steady, but was more than enough to snap the chain that had held it so firmly. Myranda put her hand to her neck and rubbed the welt that the move had caused.
"Terrible," the dragon stated. "Utterly unrefined. You will work without it today. When you are through here, have a new one made."
He tossed the gem away. Before it reached the ground, an unnatural breeze caught it up and carried it to be viewed by the ever critical Ayna.
"Murky as a swamp! Is this what passes for a focus crystal out there these days?" she said, mockingly.
The dragon sat on his haunches raised one hand-like paw. A small flame sparked into existence below it.
"Turn your mind to the flame," he said.
Myranda set her eyes on the flickering form. Slowly, the world pulled away, and the yellow-orange shape filled her mind. She gathered her entire consciousness about the flame, her mind shifting and turning with the slightest motion of the fire. Time was meaningless in such a trance; hours and seconds were interchangeable. Suddenly, the voice of Solomon broke through.
"The fire is like a living thing. Once it is born, it requires only food and breath to grow and multiply. It constantly hungers. Can you feel it?" the powerful voice spoke.
Her instructor's words were far too clear and distinct to have come from the outside world. It was as though he had willed his voice into her mind and mingled it with her thoughts. She poured over the fire with her mind and slowly became aware of a constant and steady draw. The hunger he spoke of.
"Yes," Myranda said, the effort of doing so nearly breaking the concentration.
"Feed it," his voice replied.
At first, Myranda was at a loss. Feed it what? Fire needed wood or oil, something to burn. She had nothing. It mystified her that this flame could even exist, floating in mid-air. What did he mean?
"Feel the heat," the dragon instructed.
Slowly, Myranda became awake of a dull feeling of warmth filtering into her mind from the outside.
"Now feel beyond the heat. Feel it with your mind," he said.
Myranda probed further. After an eternity, she finally found it. The feeling came like a torrent. It was the energy of the fire. Not the temperature or the light, something deeper than that. Something fundamental. The essence of the fire. Feeling it now was like opening her eyes for the first time. It was a new sense, one she would later find was the basis for all of the magic she would be taught.
"Just as the fire has an energy, so does your spirit. Look inside yourself. Feel your energy. Control it," he said.
Myranda turned her focus inward slightly, searching for the same sort of power that she felt in the flame. Gradually, she became aware of an energy within. It wasn't the same feeling as the fire, but it was similar. Controlling the strange power was a challenge. If feeling the essence was like using a new sense for the first time, controlling it was like using a new limb.
Myranda did not know where to begin. Every minor attempt she made to influence it resulted in an almost random shifting and changing of the power. It was like trying to learn to wiggle her ears. She knew what she wanted to do, but she simply could not manage to do it. Repeated failed attempts were only beginning to give her a sense of the nature of her control over this energy when Solomon's voice broke through for a final time.
"That will be all for today," he said.
Myranda brought herself out of the trance. The first rays of dawn were painting the sky orange. Of the crowd that had been watching her, only Deacon remained. He was mid-yawn, book in hand, as always. Myn was sleeping beside her. The night of strong thought had taken its toll. She was feeling the bizarre lack of will that had always followed her practice sessions with Wolloff, but to a far greater degree. Her body was affected by the hours of sitting motionless in the cold of night as well. Both of her legs were asleep and her back was agonizingly sore.
"We will continue tonight. I expect you to be fully rested," Solomon said. "In the meantime, I would like to take Myn to be fed, but she will follow more willingly if you join her."
Myranda tried unsuccessfully to get to her feet, discovering in the process that her left hand was extremely tender for some reason. Deacon approached to help her, but Myn snapped into wakefulness and kept him at bay. Myranda leaned heavily on the dragon to stand. It soon became clear that the dragon would not be able to keep her standing alone, and reluctantly Deacon's aid was accepted.
"I have never been so tired," Myranda said.
"Well, this style of magic is a bit more taxing on the mind. Also, you were not using a crystal. Tomorrow we will give you a training one," he said.
"Why does my hand hurt?" she asked, casting her blurred vision to her hand. It was red and irritated.
"I had warned you about that. When Solomon asked you to feel the fire, he placed your hand a bit closer than he ought to have. Your trance was strong enough to overlook the pain. That is admirable," he said.
"In the three months that I have been at this, I have never felt so--" Myranda began, only to be cut off by an excited Deacon.
"Three months!" he interjected.
"Yes, I had told you I had only had a bit of white magic training," she said.
"Around here 'a bit of training' is two years, minimum. You have demonstrated a depth and quality of concentration vastly disproportionate to your level of training," he said, rummaging through his bag to retrieve his book. He hastily scribbled something down in it as he repeated his last words incredulously.
"Have I?" Myranda said. In her current state of mind, the act of forming a sentence was an incredible effort. Comprehension was impossible.
"I will meet you at the arena. Just follow Solomon," he said as he rushed off toward his hut.
With the support of Deacon's arm so suddenly gone, Myranda nearly tumbled to the ground. Thankfully, Myn rushed to the faltering side to shore her up.
Th
e pair made their way unsteadily to a bizarre sight. There was an enormous circle of crystal on the ground, perhaps one hundred paces across. At three points along the edge, there were spires of the same crystal, each elegantly carved from bottom to top with various runes and symbols. The crystal was clear as water, perhaps with a tint of blue. Solomon was waiting at the edge.
In a few inaudible words of his language, he summoned Myn, who would only leave Myranda's side when the wavering girl had taken a seat on the ground. Then the two dragons stepped onto the crystal surface and swiftly vanished. Myranda struggled to decide whether what she had seen had actually happened, or if her ailing mind was playing tricks with her eyes. She was still working at it when Deacon carefully sat beside her, holding a steaming cup in his hands.
"Drink this," he said as he handed her the cup.
Myranda took the cup and carefully put it to her lips. The flavor was powerfully bitter, though after the long, cool night the warmth felt good going down. Almost immediately, she felt her mind clearing. It was as though a fog in her mind was being lifted. A few more sips and she felt almost herself again.
"This is incredible. What is it?" she asked him.
"A special tea made from the leaves of a plant that bears seed only during a full moon," he said as he opened his book and flipped to a blank page.
"I feel as though I could endure another night of training," she said.
"You may feel that way, but the tea only restores your mind, not your mana. Your spirit is still spent. To restore that, you would need the seeds of the plant, or more so its dew," he said, carefully adding a heading to the page that prominently bore Myranda's name.
"Will I be taking this tea after every training session?" she asked.
"I am afraid not. As a rule, it is best to recover naturally," he said.
"Then why have you given this to me now?" she asked.
"Because I am a profoundly impatient man at times," he said.
"Impatient for what?" she asked.
"Knowledge about you," he said.
"Why me?" she asked.
"Simple. Your performance today. I have seen people who have had three years of training and were happy with what you have managed. You have had only three months! Such a natural predisposition toward magic is not unheard of, but it is extremely rare. We can only attest to having three here in our history, and only one that we witnessed. People with your uniqueness are still an enigma to us," he said.
"My performance today was awful. I failed," she said.
"You failed to affect the fire, perhaps, but you learned to sense essence and you began to manipulate your own. Those two skills are the sole benefits of our beginner's training, which normally takes five years! You've nearly completed them on your first day!" he said.
"Then why would . . ." Myranda began as she turned back to the strange sight before her. Suddenly, she remembered what was occupying her mind before he appeared. "What is that? And why did Myn vanish?"
"Oh. That is the crystal arena. To my knowledge, it is absolutely unique in the world. We found the single largest deposit of focus stone in existence when we came here, and in the years that followed, we crafted this. Within it, magic is effortless, concentration is unnecessary, and you will feel no draw on your own mana. Solomon uses it as a hunting ground. Our founder, Azriel, makes her home there. She conjures up a forest and Solomon hunts down--well, that," he said, indicating three large bags of fish that were being carried to the arena by people in red tunics. Once placed within the arena, they too vanished.
"Azriel transforms the fish into whatever prey Solomon would like and he hunts and eats his fill. I expect now Myn will receive the same treatment," he said. "Now, if you don't mind, Myranda. I have some questions for you."
"Ask," she said, taking another sip from her tea.
As the sun climbed in the sky, Deacon proceeded to ask Myranda to summarize her life, beginning with birth. As she spoke, he faithfully recorded the details. Before long, Myn emerged from the arena, clutching a fish in her mouth. She dropped it to the ground and sniffed it with confusion, as it had not been a fish when she was inside of the arena, but soon decided one meal was as good as another and presented it to Myranda in exchange for the usual reward. Myranda suggested that they take a break to cook the food, lest she seem ungrateful to the dragon, but Deacon merely snapped his fingers and the fish was instantly cooked to a turn.
It was well into the morning before Deacon was satisfied with his answers.
"Excellent, truly excellent. You should head off to bed. I have got to go over your life story and compare it to our notes on prodigies. Also, I will see to it that when you awaken you will have a crystal. Would you like it in an amulet as before, or in a staff? As a beginner, I would recommend the staff. It will give you something to lean on," he said.
"Whatever you think is best," she said.
"Excellent," he repeated, as he walked eagerly off to his work.
"Wait! Don't you ever sleep?" she asked.
"Not if I can avoid it. Tremendous waste of time," he said.
Myranda trudged wearily to the hut she had been provided with, dragon in tow. She pushed open the door and readied herself for bed. When she had climbed in, Myn joined her as always, but she did not go to sleep as she usually did. She had, after all, been sleeping most of the night while Myranda was busy with her training. For several minutes, she fidgeted and shifted restlessly. Finally, she took a long sniff at the air and jumped down from the bed and pushed open the window shutters.
"What is wrong, little one?" Myranda asked.
Myn took another long smell and looked longingly into the distance. It didn't take long for Myranda to figure out what the creature wanted.
"You want to spend some time with him," Myranda said.
Myn seemed to give a quite spirited answer to the affirmative. The little dragon had been quite affectionate to Leo when they were traveling together. It was only natural she would desire his company in this place.
"He cannot be trusted, you know. He lied to me and did terrible things," Myranda warned.
The dragon was unswayed.
"Go," Myranda said.
She had not even finished the syllable before Myn disappeared out the window and scampered off. Myranda pulled herself from the bed and closed the window. When she returned to the bed, she dropped quickly off into a dreamless sleep. Usually she would have been disappointed to be without dreams, but judging from the horrible nightmares she had been having, this was a blessing.
#
Myranda's eyes opened heavily to the fading rays of the sun as they flowed through the open window. Myn had managed to pull the shutters open and let herself in, or she had been helped. At any rate, she had nestled atop Myranda at some time during the day.
The girl rose from bed and dressed. Fresh clothes were a welcome change to the life she had been living of late, though pulling on her worn boots was all too familiar. She briefly considered asking for something better, but so much had been done for her already, she decided against it.
As she stepped outside and felt the cool dusk air, Myn jumped down and followed her. She closed the door and decided to have some breakfast just as soon as she could remember where the food was served. Deacon appeared and walked eagerly up to her as she wandered in what she believed was the correct direction. The young man's face held the telltale signs of a sleepless night, but he seemed none the worse for wear. Indeed, he seemed to be just as excited as he had been the night before, if not more so.
"Good evening, good evening. I trust you slept well," he said.
"Indeed, I did. Did you sleep at all?" she asked.
"Heavens no! Too much to do. Sleep can wait. Come this way. I have something for you to do," he said.
"I was actually looking forward to breakfast," she said.
"Breakfast? Oh, of course. I suppose I had better eat as well, lest I forget again," he said.
The pair took a meal with Myn more than a little di
stracted by the constant flow of words from Deacon's mouth. He scarcely took a moment to swallow, so eager was he to speak.
"I compared what you told me about yourself to the records we have of the others. The prodigies. It seems clear that there is most certainly a familial influence. Your parents were each uncommonly intelligent. Likely, had they tried their hands at magic, they would have excelled as well. I must say, though, in reviewing your story, I found a few points puzzling. You say just before you entered this place, you discovered that Leo was not what you had thought him to be," he said, taking advantage of her answer to slurp a few hasty spoonfuls of the stew.
"Yes. I recognized his voice as the man who had captured me and killed those men in front of the church. A crime that I was to be blamed for, no less," she said.
"And, yet, immediately afterward, you followed him into the water. You followed him into what must have seemed to be certain death despite the fact he had revealed that all you knew about him was a lie," he said.
"Yes," she said.
"Well, then. You either have incredible intuition or terrible judgment. Not to offend you, of course. Clearly it was the correct decision and you ought to be commended," he said.
"Thank you, I suppose," Myranda said.
"I checked up on him. Asked around. Those that can remember him, and there are precious few, all agree on two points. One is that his name isn't Leo. No one is quite sure what his name is, but it is certainly not what he has told you. Leo, it turns out, was a student that was being trained at the same time. In what I am sure is no coincidence, his disposition was strikingly similar to that of your friend prior to your discovery of his deception. He was a human, and has since passed on," Deacon said.