by Allen Snell
“I helped a bunch of trapped people in the city,” Belen bragged. “After that, I dug so many wells! Naia helped some, but she’s mostly been taking care of the injured. Now, she keeps going off with the soldiers, and she won’t let me come!”
They were close enough for Naia to hear the complaint. “Because no one here is crazy enough to let an eleven-year-old join an army. Go help Kael with the injured or, I don’t know, go make some friends. I see kids your age running around here all the time.”
Belen looked at the ground. “They’re boring. I should be able to fight with you guys.”
Naia turned to Garen. “I think bringing him with us to Idrian’s might have sent the wrong signal. Belen told someone yesterday he’s training to become a Spellsword.”
Belen looked up at her defiantly. “Yeah, I don’t need your permission for that. I’m gonna become a Spellsword and rescue my sister. You can’t stop me.”
Naia laughed. “I can think of a hundred ways to stop you.”
“Okay,” Garen stepped between them. “Glad things are going wonderfully here. Belen, can you give me a little bit of time to update Naia? After that, maybe you could show me those wells you dug?”
Belen sighed and looked up at the sky. “Fine.” Garen didn’t actually expect him to relent so easily. It was strange realizing how much sway he held with the boy after being gone for several weeks.
Garen followed Naia back into her stone hut. It was plain, but still a sight to behold among the tents. They stepped inside and bolted the door.
“I found my grandmother,” Garen said, feeling childishly blunt.
Naia didn’t understand. “As in, where they buried her? How would that—”
“No, I found her. She was alive. Somehow. She passed the spirit to my mother without dying. And I saw how she split the Water and Wind Spirits back into two separate souls.”
“That’s good news, I guess,” Naia said, less enthused than Garen hoped. “So, why’d you come here?”
Garen winced. “I learned how the split happened. But it involved getting help from your spirit. If we’re going to ease Drake’s burden, I need your help.”
“I don’t see how a Water Spellsword is going to help him. You’re the one with all the deep magic.” Naia said, her tone a little resentful.
Garen shook his head. “Deep magic isn’t all from the Gate of Truth. There’s more to each one of the elements. Water comes from a gate called Choice. It can undo spells and, apparently, force a spirit out of its host. So, we need to get you trained and ready.”
“First, that sounds ridiculous. You’re the newer Spellsword. You don’t get to train me.” Garen searched her expression for a hint of playful banter. He wasn’t sure how serious she was being. “Second, how would we even practice that?”
“Well, I figured we could start with the easier spells from the Gate of Choice. If you’re able to cancel spells the way Aethis does, I’ll bet the rest of the deep magic comes easier. Then we’ll say hi to King Drake.”
“To who?” Naia’s eyes grew wide.
“Oh, yeah. You’re not the only one with a surprising new rank. I spellshifted to see Drake yesterday.” Garen’s explanation only increased her confusion. “It’s a new thing I learned. I can travel to anyone I know like—” Garen snapped his fingers. “That was how I arrived…when…” Garen didn’t have the confidence to explain Naia’s state of undress. She glared, clearly not needing him to.
“Anyway,” Garen tried to force the conversation onward, “Drake says things are going well for him and Morgan. He stepped up to lead the Western Kingdom when no one else would. I mean, they probably don’t call him king. Steward just sounds so lame.” Naia remained tense. “Why would that be a bad thing?”
“I don’t know, because you and Idrian keep telling us that having two spirits makes a person do crazy things, and the very next piece of news is how Drake’s in charge of a goffing kingdom.”
“Well, when you put it that way, yeah. But I talked with him. He’s in a weirdly excited mood, but he’s still Drake. He’s not out there killing people to take the throne. I think it’s great to have someone like him in charge for a while. He sounded passionate about helping those people. You have to admit, they’ve had some pretty awful leaders. And with two kings dead in a year, I can see why more people aren’t lining up for the job. Now, it’s just on us to handle the spirits thing before it becomes a problem.”
“I suppose. We won’t have much time during the day. General Tragus is running me ragged training the Centralians. I’m already committed to helping them prepare in case the Apatten show up at our doorstep.”
“Apparently, so am I. But we can start tomorrow evening.”
“Oh great,” Naia sighed and fell onto her bed. Despite the well-made stone hut, the bedding wasn’t any nicer than the straw one he’d assembled at Karna’s. “There’s room on the floor if you need it tonight. Or you can probably find a bunk at the barracks, now that we’ve moved all the civilians out.”
“Thanks. I’ve got to go pretend I’m excited about a bunch of wells, first.”
Naia snickered and sat up with an inquisitive stare. “For being an only child, it’s weird how good you are with him.”
Garen shrugged. “At Belen’s age, I had all three of the emperor’s sons living with us. The more I think back to it, the more I realize they put up with. Well, Micah and Amiri at least. It’s not too hard to mimic how they treated me.”
“Hmm,” Naia laid her head back down. She rolled to her side to keep the bedding from irritating her scar. “Good luck. They’re pretty boring wells.”
* * * * *
The first week was a blur for Garen. He learned the layout of the camp, their upcoming plans to clear the rubble from Vikar-Tola, and how the salvaged food and supplies were being distributed. The people were hard at work in one way or another. It freed Garen to spend his entire day assisting Naia with the Centralians. They began training how to use wind magic to sprint over long distances. Tragus was eager to dedicate the troops’ time mastering the ability. He said moving soldiers where they’re needed was half of any war.
Garen spent the evenings training with Naia. They tried asking the spirit Ampelis how he’d removed Therov. They received no response, which was still better than when Kallista demanded he stop asking. Garen decided they’d learn by doing. He tried helping her reach past the surface of the Gate of Choice for an hour or two each night. Garen would conjure a simple spell of fire or wind and ask her to unmake it. So far, Naia failed to grasp any deep magics. Garen’s inability to demonstrate the Gate of Choice didn’t help.
Garen had an epiphany one evening. He tried relating Choice to the way she could alter the temperature of water. Surely that was a deeper magic than controlling the elements. He waited for the breakthrough. It turned out to be a pointless stepping stone. The chasm between what she knew and what she didn’t was still too wide to cross, and the hours spent failing to make any progress stretched the tension between them.
At least training Centralians the following day gave Naia a place to vent those frustrations. “Pathetic! Back behind the starting line, all of you.”
Pained groans filled the air as nearly two hundred soldiers-in-training jogged across the field. Some had to pick themselves up from the muddy ground, soaked by the waves of water she’d conjured. Others were covered in the dirt Garen and two dozen of the top Centralians had launched at them. They stood beside Garen, smirking at their victory. The exercise was cleverly designed. Naia, Garen, and as many additional soldiers as needed provided a steady stream of obstacles. The Centralians merely had to use the abilities they’d been taught to get past them.
“You’re still grouping too closely together,” Naia yelled. Garen always knew she could be this loud, but he’d never expected her voice to carry that much authority. She seemed taller without Morgan to hide and complain behind. “If you take the shortest path to us, you’re risking everyone you run beside.”
She borrowed much of the lecturing style Micah used under the hood of “Kiron.” She almost sounded like him now. Hearing her shout commands and strategy reminded him of simpler times in Vikar-Tola, training and sparring together. She was always a little pushy and self-important, but not quite this forceful. That part was new.
The soldiers had reformed their ranks. Their postures looked ready for the next trial. Their pained expressions did not.
“Ready?” Naia asked her row of defenders.
Garen nodded, happy to let her keep doing the talking today. He surveyed the field. He placed as many spell anchors as he could on the vast field between him and the Centralians. Naia shouted “go” and Garen yanked on as many anchors as he could. Some were softened by the previous flood waters. They sprayed mud high into the air. Others were loosened enough by his last earthquake that large clods of dirt filled the sky and rained back down. The last anchors found solid grips, and they rattled the ground under the runners.
Despite a constant struggle to stay on their feet, the soldiers ran forward. Naia was prepared to punish those who wanted to still run straight at her. She turned the already damp patches of ground to solid ice. Most of them took hard falls. Others had seen the trick earlier and used their own magical prowess to melt the patch with fire.
Garen watched some soldiers attempt to rise above the chaos. They were quick learners, using the simple wind disk that Garen had taught them. Most were still slow and awkward on it. Garen summoned a violent wind around them. Few could maneuver their discs through it. They fell back to the ground. Naia saw the skilled ones still moving toward them in the air and unsheathed her sword. Garen wasn’t sure how Micah would have felt about her relying on the motion. The Spellswords were trained to cast without visual crutches like flailing their arms. Still, Naia’s ice magic was always more impressive aided by the movement.
Massive sheets of ice expanded from the tip of her blade as she sliced four times. They shot forward in the sky toward the four soldiers walking along the wind. Three conceded their approach and simply dropped off their disks. One tried to meet it head on with fire. Despite how thin the ice was, the fire did not stop the ice’s speed the way the man hoped. It was a lesson in overconfidence they all had to learn at one point or another. The broad side of it cracked against him and dropped him out of the sky. Garen worried if he would survive the fall for a moment, but Naia was not as merciless as she seemed. Through the muddy chaos, Garen saw a column of water rise up and break his fall. His back would be red from the smack against it, but better sore than broken.
Several soldiers took Naia’s advice by running wide. The field was plenty large enough, and the stretch of land directly between them was too muddy and fractured anyway. However, the long way around was still the long way around. Garen had plenty of time to shake the ground beneath them. When they slowed enough to regain their footing, the Centralians aiding him would seal the dirt over an ankle. Or if they fell, a hand. Garen couldn’t split the earth wide enough to trap people entirely, but the minor adjustments in the terrain let him stall and distract like none other.
The repetition gave the recruits a chance to respond more calmly and strategically than the average person suddenly lashed to the ground. A soldier toward the front quickly reformed the sod from around her ankle and resumed a sprint toward them. He recognized Elise and could see the resolve in her eyes. As much as Garen wanted to reward her for outperforming her peers, that wouldn’t help her survive out there. If he wanted to help her, it would be with greater obstacles.
Garen released a towering wave of flame that left the air in a blurred haze around it. He immediately felt the drain on his depth and regretted how much destruction he poured into the spell.
Panic spread among the soldiers nearby her. The determination on Elise’s face only intensified in the bright orange glow. She was younger than most of the recruits and smaller framed. These fires could put an end to her training forever.
Garen wished he had mastered the Gate of Choice instead of any other. Karna should have spent more time teaching him how to take back a spell. He couldn’t unmake an inferno this size.
Elise coated her leather armor in ice as she ran toward it. The idea was clever, but she misjudged her obstacle. Garen had gone too far, and those fires would be the death of her. He looked to Naia. She, too, stared at the enormous salvo lighting the ground in front of them. She gave him a wide-eyed expression that offered no help.
He turned back to the fire and reached deep within his soul. It went past the water magic that would pale in comparison to his needs. He grasped wildly into the Gate of Choice. It was an infuriating void that offered him no answers. He didn’t need answers this time. He knew what he wanted, and he found what he’d created. Elise screamed as she shot water forward to meet the wall of flame. It wasn’t enough, sizzling into steam. Garen closed his eyes, imagined what the fires would do to her, and he chose a better option.
Garen felt the spell’s depth return to him. He opened his eyes and saw Elise charge through a line of scorched earth, now devoid of fire. The rest of the soldiers had stopped their advance to watch her. She was sopping wet from the melted ice, but she was unscathed and kept walking forward. A voice cheered. Another clapped, and several others followed suit. They were proud of the idiot. They thought she’d beaten it head on.
Garen raised an arm to keep the obstacles coming. Naia stepped in front of him. She craned her neck to the side and shook her head. “Let’s give it to her.”
He wanted to explain, but the cheers were getting louder as all the Centralians rushed toward them. Elise stepped over the line and smiled.
“That was bold as brass,” Naia said, smiling at her.
Elise looked as proud as he’d ever seen her. “I keep failing these tests out of fear. I decided this time I wouldn’t turn back, no matter what. I knew you wouldn’t actually hurt us.”
“Yeah, you really shouldn’t assume—” Garen started, but the rest of the soldiers pulled Elise into a mob of celebration.
“Let someone else take the credit for once,” Naia said, walking away. “Give them something to celebrate. We keep telling them how unprepared they are.”
“Because they are unprepared,” Garen said, running up alongside her. “They’re celebrating her fearlessness right now. You know, the thing that almost got her killed. The thing that will get her killed in a battle.”
“I don’t know what you’re expecting,” Naia took a deep breath, bottling her own stress before she could say more. “That’s how soldiers work. They have to be fearless, even if it kills them.”
Garen shook his head. “I don’t know about your training with Micah, but he was pretty insistent that fear was a good thing for me.”
“Micah coddles us because we’re not expendable. They are.” Her words were cold and harsh. Garen wanted to argue but couldn’t. It gave him even more reason to hate war, more reason to help Drake stop the Apatten before fearless lives would be spent by their king like coinage.
Chapter 23
Garen stared at the full moon resting above the horizon. The white orb seemed to grow larger as the sun finished setting. He and Naia sat on a raised stone ledge. Garen had the idea to conjure up a column of stone from the River Rojand and heat it dry. It was better than sitting on a muddy bank.
Eventually they’d feel the evening chill, but for now the cool mist of the river felt good after a hard day of training. Garen and Naia had continued teaching the Centralians wind-sprinting. Most of them had picked up the skill at a decent pace, but there was no way to practice it except to keep on running. Even with the wind guiding their steps, their legs felt the hours of exertion.
Garen’s legs kicked absentmindedly. His toes skimmed the surface of the water. During their second week of training, Naia found the banks of the river to be the most calming location. And calming was an essential part. Garen hoped for a breakthrough after he used the Gate of Choice to unmake his fire wall. Unfortunately,
his experience wasn’t something he could put into repeatable steps. Garen could only say, “Reach past the gate,” “No, deeper,” and “Now, reach through it,” so many times before she wanted to put her fist straight through him.
“She’s a little naïve, but I still think she’s my favorite,” Garen said.
“You just like her because she actually listens to you.”
“No, no,” Garen paused, thinking about the respect and, sometimes, lack of respect he’d been shown. “But that is nice. Better than the guys that think I’m too young to take orders from. It’s not like I’m making this up as I go! We’ve seen—”
Naia waved her hand in front of Garen’s face. “Hey, I get it. Don’t yell at me. I didn’t mean to start a fire.”
“Yeah, sorry. I was just saying Elise should be on Tragus’ list for Captain. She’s getting bolder, almost stupidly so, and I’ve seen plenty of recruits taking her lead.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely not biased at all. But I’ll give it to you. They’re not as rough as when we started,” Naia said. “We’ve just got a ways to go.”
“About that,” Garen said with a deep breath.
Naia laughed quietly. “No way, you are not leaving me with this mess.”
“Just to check in with the others. We both know I’ll be back.”
“Uh huh. And if I’m half-clothed again, you’ll have a hard time calling it a coincidence.”
Garen blushed a little, but eventually smiled. “Fingers crossed, I’ll be a tiny bit luckier next time.”
Naia squinted, unsure which way to interpret it. They sat quietly for a moment, both their eyes fixed on the tranquil Rojand. The sounds of the encampment behind them were muffled by thirty feet across of rustling river.
“Belen’s getting along a little better, too,” Naia said. “I think the excitement of having you here for a couple weeks kept his attention better than I can.”
“You think he’ll be okay?” Garen asked.