“He said he was going to help me with homework,” she said. “But he never came back.”
“That's not like Desmond,” Nathaniel answered. “Something must have come up.”
“He is safe,” Sienna shrugged. “Teach me? Just that one?”
Nathaniel paused, trying to consider the consequences. Under normal circumstances, this would be a non-issue. A Maestro teaching a Tiro a complicated spell would be an almost daily occurrence. With Sienna, it was a tangled web of complications.
“Little one, it's difficult,” he said. “And you know that you'll feel ill after.”
“So? What have we to do tomorrow?” She asked. “Or the next day? Or the next? I can recover.”
“Or the Jurors call us tonight,” he said, and she shook her head.
“They won't,” she said. “Please. I can't be a witch with no magic.”
He sighed, trying to think how he could modify the spell. When he was her age, he had already learned it and was using it in a basic form in battle.
“Come here,” he said at last, adjusting his position back to a starter pose. “I don't want you to fire until I tell you, all right? Just go through the motions.”
She nodded, tensing her body and copying his movements. Her magic danced on her fingers as it always did when they were in an abundance of nature. Fruit was her main set off, and Eliza's orchards were well away, but she was so powerful that he could tell she was drawing strength from them, even when she didn't mean to.
“Are you ready?” he asked. “One, here, like this. Two, over. Three up. And four, left. Got it?”
She nodded, intimating his movements.
“Good,” he said. “Do it again. One...,”
They went through it a few times, and he had to admit, she was a natural. She flowed with the movements as if they were part of breathing. Her rhythm was correct, and her eyes were focused.
“Now?” she asked, and he in took a sharp breath. “Please?”
“Once,” he said. “Just once. That's it.”
She nodded, focusing forward. He took a step behind her and watched her positioning.
“Your opponent is the grey rock,” he said. “The one with two lumps. Do you see it?”
“Yes,” she narrowed her focus, readjusting her position to get her aim. She lowered her shoulders and then leaned forward a bit.
She then moved so fast he almost missed it. Her wrists flicked up and then down. Her palms opened and closed, and then a blast of magic came out so powerful that he was actually startled by it.
The rock instantly blew to pieces, flying everywhere.
He moved forward, putting his hands on either side of her head, and holding out a shield so that neither of them got hit in the face. The pieces hit his shield and shattered to the ground, making holes in the grass.
Both of them stood in shock for a silent moment. When he deemed it safe, he dropped the magic.
“Are you all right?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Oops?”
“I wouldn't say ‘oops,’” he answered. “No opponent would have stood against that. Just, sometimes, you don't need to use so much.”
“But for battle…,” she searched for the right word. “To kill.”
“Yes, that would have been a killing blow,” he said. “But we don't always need to kill, Sienna.”
She looked down at her hands, as if amazed at what they could do. “Less is harder,” she said, at last.
“I know,” he replied. “That's a lesson in control.”
“I would be taking those now if I was back in school.”
“Don't worry about it,” he tried to distract her. “Are you sure that you feel all right?”
“Yes,” her eyes were bright. “That was amazing. Again?”
“Fat chance,” he said, with a grin. “Eliza will literally kill us if we destroy something else in her garden. I'm already going to have to explain this to her, and she won't be happy. Luckily, she likes you, so it should be all right.”
“Can we not put it back together?” she asked, and he winced.
“That's even harder.”
She grinned “You can do it.”
“Argh,” he said, weighing the effort of the magic against Eliza's rage. He decided that the former was the easier choice, and turned back to the site of the stone. “Stand back,” he said. “I haven't done this in years, and I don't know if it will go wrong.”
“I can help?”
“You can help by going to stand by the tree,” he said, pointing to the left side. “Go. Now.”
Waiting until her back was against it, he pointed his hands forward. Fixing things, in his opinion, was a lot harder than blowing them up. He had to focus on precision, on technique more than power. Nathaniel had always been good at power and strength, but also at confidence. He knew he was a warrior, and no one could take that from him.
The pieces of the rock slowly fit back together, bit by bit. It wasn't easy, for she had done a number on it, but it was a good exercise. He waved a hand when he was done, sealing them in, and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Still got it,” he said to Sienna with a smile. She grinned, taking a few steps forward to look at the rock.
“It looks new,” she said.
“Don't act so surprised,” he replied. “Your Maestro can still do a thing or two.”
She ran her hand over the smooth stone, looking for any telltale cracks. Nathaniel's magic, though, was flawless.
“Wow,” she said softly. He put a hand on her shoulder, feeling her distress.
“One day, little one, you'll be able to do that. I promise.”
“Maybe,” she said softly. “And if not, at least I can say that my Maestro could.”
Chapter 3
“You're distracted,” Nathaniel said to Desmond that night at dinner. Far from the messy and noisy cafeteria, all the witches were invited to dine at the royal table with Eliza. There were always a large number of people at the palace; every night seemed to be a feast with visiting officials and invited guests. Nathaniel always sat on Eliza's right hand side, usually with Desmond beside him, and Mariah opposite him. Sienna was beside Desmond, blocked by his elbow from Nathaniel's view.
“Just news from the Academy,” Desmond said, focused on his plate. “It's always jarring. A whole world exists without us being there.”
“I understand that,” Nathaniel answered. “Anything in particular?” He reached for the wine jug as he said so. Witches weren't expressively forbidden from drinking, but it was considered a distraction, and so they usually abstained. Nathaniel partook more often than his Maestro, although he was usually responsible about it.
Desmond glanced to Nathaniel, and then decided there was no point in keeping secrets. “Sybil is undercover,” he said, “and on the tail of Reynolds, she thinks.”
Nathaniel froze “Reynolds? Your Reynolds?”
“Yes,” Desmond answered. “Mariah doesn't think she is in any danger, but he's high up in his Acheronian order. She is hunting a few that are lower in the ranks.”
“I don't think Sybil is in any danger,” Nathaniel answered. “But I thought Reynolds…wow,” he put the wine jug back, and Desmond raised an eyebrow.
“You know you didn't pour anything, right?”
“I think it's better if I'm alert,” he said.
“You think I'm going to partake irresponsibly instead? Nathaniel, really.” Desmond snorted.
“I don't know,” Nathaniel answered. “This is the first time we've heard that Reynolds is alive in years. It must be distressing.”
“It is,” Desmond answered. “But not as distressing as it would be to learn that he is dead. He was still my Tiro, and we still had many years together. It's odd to say, but I am glad he is alive. For now, anyway.”
“I didn't think of it that way,” Nathaniel answered. “You don't want to see him, or anything?”
“No,” Desmond answered. “I am content to know we still exist in the same real
m, despite the choice he's made.”
“Well, in that case,” Nathaniel reached for the wine jug again. “If you're going to be plagued by thoughts, you could–”
“I'm not taking the night shift,” Desmond said quickly. “I know I was unavailable for part of today, but it's not an excuse for more than a glass or two.”
“Spoilsport,” Nathaniel said, having no intention of getting tipsy. It was an odd sort of existence, but he was enjoying it. He had always been taught to live in the moment, for witches didn't know about tomorrow. This seemed to be the ultimate proof of that lesson.
“Sienna,” Mariah's voice suddenly spoke up in concern. Having lost her sight, her other senses were incredibly heightened. In this case, she heard the clatter of the utensils that were previously in the young Tiro's hands.
Both of her Maestros whipped their heads around, bolting from their seats. Eliza stopped her conversation, and the table went silent. Sienna's hands were shaking, and her eyes were downcast. Desmond was closer, and he grabbed her, holding her back in case she slumped over. Nathaniel's entire world narrowed to his young Tiro as he got to her other side, focusing on her vitals.
“Maestro,” he said, as Desmond picked up on his thoughts.
“Come on, Sienna,” Desmond said, recognizing the signs of an impending fainting spell. “Let's go. Come on.”
She was getting no heavier with age, and he bent his knees, swooping her up.
“Is she going to seize?” Nathaniel asked, his voice dripping with concern. He always felt so useless when these things happened, because he could do nothing. Natural medications made her worse, as did pushing healing magic. Heavy chemical medication was helpful, but damaging to her system. They played a careful game of making sure she was as comfortable as possible without more damage.
“Yes,” Desmond seemed hardly phased by this phenomenon, which made Eliza sad as she silently watched. No child should have to go through this, whether she was rigorously training to be a witch or not.
“McDonnell, Juan!” She snapped to her personal guards “Don't just stand there for god’s sakes. Get the door.”
“Sienna, I need you to stay with me,” Desmond said, trying to reach into her mind. Once or twice, he could bring her back from this hell, but it was infrequent. “With me, little one. Here.”
With the doors held open, they managed to get half way down to the grand hallway before Desmond got a hand to the face.
“Oomph,” he managed, realizing they were out of time. Nathaniel jumped forward in time to help him sink to his knees.
“What can we do?” Juan, the Jeffro Captain of the Guards asked. “How can we help?”
Nathaniel's Jeffro was getting stronger every day, but he was a bit distracted.
“Nothing,” he said, not looking up. “It's fine. On her side, Desmond.”
“Why is this happening?” Desmond was more bothered by the reason of the event than the actual occurrence. She hadn't seized in months, and it seemed she was actually getting stronger on Jeffro.
Nathaniel bit his lip as he kept a hand on her shoulder.
“This may be my fault,” he said. “We were working out in the garden today, and she saw me doing a check spell. I taught it to her.”
Desmond's eyes flickered up. “That's a bit advanced, don't you think?”
“The spell is not that advanced. If she was in proper training at school, it would not be considered advanced,” Nathaniel answered. “The amount of magic that she used was, though. I'm not going to tell Eliza about the commemorative rock in her garden.”
Desmond sighed, holding Sienna's hands so she didn't smack either of them or herself. He felt blood drip from his nose and wondered briefly if she had broken it. It didn't matter, really. That would heal. His only concern was for her.
“She said something to me today,” Desmond said. “That she can't be a witch if she can't do magic.”
Nathaniel shook his head.
“She can. She said that to me, too. She just needs to learn differently than the others.”
“Nathaniel,” Desmond said, as he pushed down slightly. This one was going on for quite a while. “This is what happens when she does magic.”
They locked gazes, unspoken horrors passing in between them. Nathaniel was stubborn, and he refused to believe this was the only option.
“We knew this when we accepted this position,” Nathaniel said. “In a lot of ways, this is going better than we thought.”
“We knew that it was going to be difficult,” Desmond agreed.
Eventually, she lay still, and Desmond let out a long breath, sitting back on his haunches.
“You're bleeding,” Nathaniel said, and he wiped his nose.
“I know. It's fine. Probably don't teach her any new spells for a while.”
“Aye,” Nathaniel answered. “Does she know? About Reynolds?”
“If she hasn't already read my mind, I'm sure she will,” Desmond answered. “You can tell her tonight, if you want. Oops,” he backed up as his young Tiro tensed. “This is going to be messy.”
“I'm an idiot,” Nathaniel said, as she gagged.
“No, you're her Maestro,” Desmond tried to assure him. “You were just tasked with a heavier burden than most.”
They sat in the hallway for nearly half an hour, the guards keeping the doors to the grand hall closed to funnel the dinner guests out the other side.
‘Do you need help?’ Mariah reached out to Desmond as they sat.
‘No,’ he thought back. ‘Just comfort.’
‘I'm here when you need me,’ her thoughts wrapped around his mind like a hug, and he smiled slightly.
“Maestro,” Sienna's voice sounded half broken, leaning against Nathaniel. Both of them looked down, but she was reaching out for Desmond with her magic.
“Stop,” he grabbed her hand. “That's what got you into this situation to start with. Don't.”
In answer, she sent him an image of Reynolds, which made Desmond jump. Nathaniel's head swiveled to Desmond, watching his reaction.
“Yes, that is Reynolds,” Desmond said. “I don't often think of him. You are clever to pick that out.”
“You want…to see him?” Sienna asked, and Desmond sighed.
“Yes,” he said, not willing to lie to his Tiro. “But that is complicated.”
“Oh,” Sienna said, softly. “No.”
“We can discuss it in the morning, little one,” Desmond said. “When you are stronger. For now, are you ready to get up?”
“I…” she seemed uncertain, and Nathaniel shifted.
“I'll carry you,” he said. “Ready? One-two-three, oomph,” he stood up quickly. Desmond gave him a smile of thanks as he stood up as well.
Nathaniel was completely devoted to Sienna; he would never give up on her or her cause. It was such a switch from the first few months when Nathaniel could not get far enough from her. He had insisted that he didn't want this assignment, didn't want anything but a warrior. Desmond had just started to wonder whether taking Sienna on for both of them was the wrong choice when Nathaniel had started to see her potential, her strength. But sometimes, especially when he already felt low, Desmond wondered whether they would spend their whole life between a rock and a hard place–a Tiro so powerful that no one could measure up against her, except that she couldn't use her magic.
But then, what did it matter if they were expelled from the order? If they couldn't be practicing witches because he and Mariah weren't careful, what had he destroyed?
‘Stay close,’ Nathaniel interrupted his pitying thoughts, already halfway down the hallway. ‘This doesn't feel safe yet.’
‘I'll be awake for many hours yet,’ Desmond assured him as he straightened his clothes and wiped his nose once more. He didn't particularly want to, but he went back through the doors of the grand hall where dinner was just finishing.
“Maestro Desmond?” Eliza asked, and he dipped his head.
“Under control, your highness,” h
e said, as he took his seat across from Mariah. “My apologies.”
“Apologize for nothing,” Eliza said. “I only wish for her health.”
“Don't we all,” Desmond said, and Mariah subtly extended her hand across the table. He squeezed it, opening his mind to her thoughts. ‘It'll be a long night.’
‘And I will be at your side,’ she assured him silently. ‘Never forget that. You are not alone in this.’
He smiled, although he knew she couldn't see it, and took a drink to calm his shaking nerves. He never showed Nathaniel how much these episodes rocked him. Every time her body threatened to leave with her soul, he flashed back to Reynolds. It was an emotional departure, but it left a scar on him like no other. He couldn't take another one leaving him; he'd rather leave himself.
‘Stop,’ Mariah shot at him, and he realized she could hear his mind. ‘She'll be fine tonight.’
‘Tonight,’ Desmond said. ‘But what about tomorrow?’
‘Don't worry about tomorrow,’ she assured him. ‘We only have today.’ She often said that, but it felt heavier tonight. His eyes flickered up to her as she delicately cut into her food.
‘One day that will be true,’ he thought.
‘But it is not today,’ she assured him, and he smiled at her forcefulness. He was so grateful that she was with him, and he would not give her up for anything, not even to end this limbo.
Chapter 4
“Maestro?” Sienna asked Nathaniel, later that night. In the few hours following an event, he didn't like to leave her alone. He had gotten used to sleeping through the night these past few months, but his mind readily remembered the times he used to stay up all night by her side and sleep for a few hours in the late afternoon. He wasn't eager to repeat that time, but he was already settled into a position on her chair that suggested he might have to.
“Hmm?” he asked, looking up from his tablet.
“What really happened with Reynolds? Do you know?”
He put aside the tablet, shifting his legs. “I do,” he said. “But it's not something Desmond wants out in the open.”
“I am his Tiro,” she pointed out. “As were you, you know.”
He sighed, trying to figure out the right words to not alarm her. “Reynolds chose to use Acheronian magic.”
Dawn of the Dragons Page 39