by Joseph Lallo
"Did you see her? She practically made it halfway across the village!" Myranda said excitedly, scratching the weary creature.
"Perhaps a bit of an exaggeration, but it was impressive nonetheless," he said.
"She's growing up. I know I should be happy, but inside I'm not," she said.
"Why?" he asked.
"I don't want to lose my little dragon. She's enough of a handful at this size. Can you imagine when she is grown?" Myranda said.
"Yes, well, you've got years before that becomes a problem," he said. "As I understand it, they grow quickly at first, but it slows after the first year. Besides, I think you've got something else to worry about right now."
"What?" she asked.
"Look at the sky," he said.
The sun was nearing the horizon.
"Lain! I have to get to training!" she said.
"I'm afraid so," he said.
Myranda rushed off to her hut, with Myn trudging as quickly as she could to keep up. She retrieved the quarterstaff and hurried to where Lain was waiting.
"Myn is learning to fly. I lost track of time," Myranda explained as the tired dragon collapsed beside her.
"I know. It is a difficult spectacle to miss. Never mind the quarterstaff--take this," he said, tossing her a shorter, stouter rod.
"What is this?" she asked.
"That is roughly what you will be given when you have finished your wizard training, minus the crystal. It is the weapon that you are most likely to make use of in the future. It is also the second weapon I have decided to teach you," he said.
"Very well," she said.
"Today, I will attack, and you will defend," Lain said.
"You will attack? I have been catching Myn all day. I am not sure I can take many hits," she said.
Lain took a wooden training sword from the rack behind him. With a swift slash, he brought the weapon to within an inch of the girl's neck before she could react. There it stopped without touching her.
"If my weapon comes as close as this, you can consider yourself killed," he said.
"And how do I earn a question?" she asked.
"If you manage to block three attacks in a row, I will allow you one question," he said.
After a brief explanation of the differences in the usage of the staff as opposed to the quarterstaff, he instructed her to prepare herself, and they began. Had she more energy, Myn would have viciously objected to the violent display. Instead, she cast a weary eye on the proceedings between dozes.
Whereas she had been slow to pick up the correct methods of attack, defense came far more naturally to Myranda. Before long, she was blocking his first attack without fail. Unfortunately, this nearly always left her weapon out of place to block the follow-up attack. Lain scolded her as she failed again and again to block his second attack.
"Your opponent may be able to attack more quickly than you can move, but not more quickly than you can think. Use your mind. Battle is more than about the body. If you cannot position a block in the time between when you identify the intended target and the moment of impact, then you must move sooner. You must know where the foe will attack next! Anticipate!" he demanded.
By the end of the session, she had only managed to block a second attack a handful of times, and never a third. Magic had forced her to think deeply. It would seem that combat was forcing her to think quickly. The two skills, on the surface, seemed practically opposite. It was clear that if someone were to possess both skills, though, there would be little that such a person could not handle.
After a few final pieces of advice from Lain, Myranda parted ways and headed for home. Myn was still quite weary and took her usual post atop her when Myranda went to bed.
#
Across the Low Lands and across the west, the black carriages rolled. Trigorah watched in cold silence as her Elites carried out their orders. Anyone who met the girl since she found the sword was found, captured, and hauled away. The orders seemed pointless, arbitrary, but they were not the first such commands to bear fruit. It was not her place to question them, only to carry them out. The other generals had managed to keep the Northern Alliance free despite a centuries-long struggle against a foe twice its size and many times its strength. It didn't matter that their methods were . . . unsettling. The only thing that mattered was victory.
Trigorah repeated it to herself during the long nights without sleep. These orders were vital steps toward victory. Victory would bring peace. Peace was an end high enough to justify any means. She repeated the words to herself as she looked into the eyes of the innocents being taken away for reasons they didn't understand. She repeated them as she heard the wails of children separated from their parents. She repeated them until the words were without meaning, until the wheels of the black carriages wore deep ruts in the roads of the low lands.
She repeated them, praying each time that she might finally believe them.
#
Myn awoke and looked upon her friend with concern. Myranda was sweating and out of breath. Perhaps through no coincidence, her dreams had been of Trigorah, of that fateful meeting in the forest before they came here. The night when she nearly killed the nearest thing she had to a living relative. In her nightmare she'd seen the face of one of the injured soldiers. It was her father. She knew it couldn't be true, that her mind was playing tricks, but that hardly mattered.
Thoughts raced through her head. Trigorah had worked with her father, and she was now an Elite. Could her father have been an Elite as well? It would explain why he was away so often . . . and since the Elites were so secret and important an organization he could still be alive today, and she would never know. A brief flash of happiness at the thought vanished when she realized that Trigorah knew her, and if her father was still alive, he most certainly have been informed. He would have come for her if he was still living as a member of the Elites. Unless he was ashamed, or . . . there was no time for such thoughts.
Myranda gathered her things and headed to Ayna's place while Myn trotted off to be with Solomon. As usual, the fairy was up and about, impatiently waiting for her student to arrive. A smile came to her face as she noticed that Deacon was there, too.
"Well, well. It would appear that my little pupil has attracted an audience once again," Ayna said.
"I missed out last time. I just want to see this firsthand. It promises to be quite a spectacle," he said.
"So is a forest fire," she said with a sneer, "but if you must stay, keep clear. I will not tolerate interruption."
"I will be a mere shadow," he said.
"Well then, get to it. Concentrate," Ayna ordered.
Myranda quickly shut off the world as she had done so many times before. When her mind was prepared, Ayna's voice sounded.
"Eyes open," she demanded.
"But--" Myranda began.
"I said eyes open. And if I have to repeat myself again, you will learn just how unpleasant being my pupil can be," she said.
Myranda opened her eyes. Set before her was an array of thin poles, each with a wooden ball perched on its end.
"Now, the purpose of this apparatus should be clear to all but the dimmest of individuals. Therefore, let me explain it to you. You will conjure up a wind and direct it at the poles. If it is of sufficient strength, the ball will fall. I will see to it that no natural breezes give you any help," Ayna said. "You may close your eyes, provided you can remember which direction is forward."
Myranda closed her eyes and tried to push away the anger Ayna had stirred up with her belittling remarks. The wind came quickly. It was only a breeze at first, but it grew steadily, and before long, she felt that it must be strong enough. She opened her eyes, managing to maintain the strength of the breeze. Of the ten poles, four had already lost their cargo, and a fifth came quickly after that.
As time went on. the strain of keeping the wind at speed became nearly unbearable, but one by one the other poles shed their contents. Finally only one remained, but try as she migh
t she could not shake the ball free.
"Oh, come now. Just one more," Ayna said, a thin veneer of encouragement poorly masking her smug satisfaction.
Myranda redoubled her efforts, but the ball would not budge. Had she less of a task occupying her mind, she might have noticed Deacon shaking his head in disgust and casting a glare at Ayna, but all of this was filtered out in her attempts to focus her mind more powerfully. Her trainer wore a grin that widened with each unsuccessful gust. The fury within her grew and eroded her concentration. The gales began to waver, and finally she let the trance lapse entirely.
"Well, well. Our prodigy is not all-powerful after all. You have your rest, and perhaps tomorrow you can take another baby step," Ayna gloated.
"No!" Myranda proclaimed, raising her staff and trying to conjure another breeze.
"Listen to me, little girl. You have failed. Leave now before I have you removed," Ayna warned.
Myranda ignored the fairy's protests and brought about a weak breeze. She tried to strengthen it, but the anger filling her mind left no room for concentration. Ayna flitted directly in front of her disobedient pupil and continued to threaten, but Myranda heard none of it. Her fury grew and grew, like a river straining against a dam. This awful creature that took such joy in her failure would be taught a lesson. Her hands began to shake.
Finally the dam broke and the anger flooded her mind. A powerful burst of wind erupted, seemingly from nowhere, shaking her from her focused state of mind. The profound dizziness struck with equal speed. She had dropped her staff when the wind had startled her and had nothing to steady herself. Deacon was beside her in time to keep her on her feet.
"Are you all right? You shouldn't have done that. You really shouldn't have," he said.
"I did that?" Myranda said with disbelief.
Her eyes finally came into focus to see what looked to be the site of a disaster. All of the poles were shaking violently. Those nearest to the one she had been focusing on were snapped off at the base and were only just now falling to the ground yards away. The one she had targeted was missing entirely, along with a generous portion of the earth it had been anchored in. Some distance away it could be found, embedded in Ayna's tree. Ayna herself was fluttering, stunned, in front of a slight impression in the same tree where she had collided with it. She was plastered with the dirt kicked up by the wind and slowly turning to the tree to survey the damage.
"You had better move. Quickly," Deacon whispered to her as he led her away.
The fairy lifted a hand without turning. A fierce wind rushed up around Myranda, forcing Deacon away and lifting her from the ground. When she had flitted to the ground beside the flailing girl, she snapped her fingers. The wind cut off, and Myranda fell forcefully to the ground.
"That is all. You are through! I do not want to see you again for a year," she said.
"Now, Ayna, you cannot do that," Deacon said, trying to reason with her.
"You know the rules as well as I. That girl used a spell fueled by anger. Such an offense is punishable by whatever means I see fit. You should be glad I do not choose to kill her," Ayna said.
"But the rules also call for leniency for a first offense," Deacon countered.
"Leniency! I do not care if that thing has never made a single misstep in her life! She allowed the darker emotions to empower a spell, and did so while she was disobeying me, using said spell specifically to assault me!" Ayna raged.
"I did not--" Myranda attempted, but the fairy made a fist and she felt the air withdraw from her lungs.
"You prompted it. She was not assaulting you, she was attempting to pass a test that you had sabotaged," he said.
"How dare you accuse me of sabotaging the test!" Ayna said, aghast.
"The pole is sticking out of the side of your tree and the ball is still attached," he said.
"I didn't deny sabotaging the test, but you have no right to accuse me of it," she said.
Myranda's vision was fading as what little air she had left was giving out. As her thrashing slowed, Ayna took notice and opened her fist. The fresh air rushed back into her lungs and brought her back around. When she had caught her breath enough to climb to her feet, she did so.
"What have I done to you to deserve--" Myranda attempted again, only to receive the same treatment.
"For someone renowned for her skill in learning, you certainly are slow to learn when to keep your mouth shut," Ayna said as the girl fell helplessly to the ground.
"You are the one at fault as much as her, because you know better," Deacon said.
"Fine. Get the flute and the . . . elegy, I suppose. But I am through with her until she is ready for her exam. She is your student now. See that she drills every day," Ayna said, flitting off to her tree and releasing her grip.
Deacon helped Myranda to her feet again and the two made their way to the meal hut. As they ate, and Myranda's mind cleared, they spoke.
"What just happened?" she asked.
"Ayna coaxed you into breaking one of our cardinal rules," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. "It was probably her plan from the start. Once she found out just how fast you were learning, her concern likely drifted to maintaining her own grip on the record for air mastery."
"What rule did I break?" she asked.
"You allowed anger to affect your casting of a spell," he said.
"Is that why it was so powerful? I don't understand. Why did it happen, and if I released so much energy so quickly, why am I not exhausted?" she asked.
"Well, magic is an expression of the soul's power. High emotion stirs the soul and boosts the power. Anger in particular has a way of amplifying the effect of any forceful spell beyond the point of controllability. That fact, coupled with the fact that one grows reliant on such methods if used too often, makes it one of the worst offenses one can commit while training. Long term uses can twist the soul far more than dishonesty and treachery," he said. "As for the reason that you are not exhausted? It will catch up with you, probably while you are asleep. Too much energy too quickly sometimes takes a few hours to take a toll, particularly on a first-time user. More experienced users feel it sooner."
"Why?" she asked.
"Magic still holds a few mysteries, even from us," he said.
"Wait. I saw all of the Masters literally destroy the Elder's hut. Weren't they breaking this rule?"
"They were angry while casting the spell. The anger was not affecting the strength of the spell. If it was, there wouldn't be much of a village left," he said.
"Oh. Well, what do I do now?" she asked.
"There are very few fundamentals to be taught in air magic. Two, really. You already know how to conjure wind, and the display you put on today proves you can direct it with a fair amount of accuracy. The rest is practice," he said.
"So, now I just practice until I feel ready to take some final test," she said.
"Indeed. You will be getting a flute and a tune to learn, as well. It doesn't take a prodigy to figure out what you will be doing with them for the final test," he said.
"I suppose I will be doing a hands-free performance," she said.
"Right you are," he said.
The pair finished and left the hut. Myn came trotting up and wedged herself between Myranda and Deacon.
"And where were you? I was attacked and you were nowhere to be found!" Myranda said, jokingly.
The dragon shot a vicious look at Deacon and pounced him to the ground.
"No, no! Not him. He didn't attack me!" Myranda said, pulling the creature off of her friend.
"Well, it would seem that she has gained a fairly firm understanding of the language," Deacon said, accepting a helping hand from Myranda.
The creature gave Myranda a questioning stare. She clearly was awaiting the identity of the real attacker.
"Well, I am not going to tell you who really did it because I don't want you to get me in any more trouble," Myranda said.
"And thank you so much for assuming I was
the guilty one. I have got to find some way to get on your good side," Deacon said. "I am going to start bringing you gifts."
"Well, I don't face Lain again until sundown, with nothing to do until then," Myranda said.
"I wouldn't recommend doing anything mystic. Something too strenuous could certainly bring that angry expenditure back more quickly," Deacon warned.
Little did Myranda know, Myn had made the decision for her. She sprinted off to nearest building and scampered to the rooftop. By the time Myranda noticed she had gone, she was already in the air. Myranda scarcely had the time to brace herself for impact before the beast collided with her.
An afternoon of doing so left her fairly bruised, and bleeding here and there from where Myn had gotten a bit careless with her claws. It was nonetheless an entertaining time, and a few moments of a healing spell wiped away the consequences, save a bit of fatigue of both mind and body.
Lain was waiting, as always, when she approached him.
"I am sorry, Lain. I had a rather rough time of it today. I may not be at my best," she said.
"All the better. I can think of few times that I have been fully rested when I have been expected to defend myself," he said, tossing her the staff. "Now, prepare yourself."
It was her worst showing since she began. His blows were on target constantly. On the off-chance that she managed to block a shot, the force of it threw her off balance. Several times, she lost her footing and nearly fell into a handful of blows. Thankfully, Lain's reflexes were swift enough for the two of them, and he pulled the weapon away in time. By the time Lain felt she had done enough, Myranda was on the edge of unconsciousness. The outburst she'd had earlier had most certainly made its cost known.
"I sincerely hope that you improve your off-peak performance, or you will fall swiftly in a real battle," he said.
"I will work on it," she managed as she trudged off, Myn keeping a watchful eye on the teetering girl.
She made it back to her hut and fairly collapsed on the bed. With no sunrise appointment with an unpleasant teacher, her sleep was doubly deep. No nightmare came, only the dark, dreamless sleep of pure exhaustion.