by Lana Axe
Stretching out on her pallet, she tried to clear her mind, but it kept thinking late into the night, jumping from one thought to the next. She wished there was a switch that could turn all her worries off and allow her to rest from them. No doubt they would find her easily enough in the morning. She only needed a night without them.
Sleep proved unkind. When it found her, it made way for visions of darkness and evil. All around her the sky was black, with neither stars nor moon. Barely able to make out the trees around her, she stumbled in the dark, constantly tripping and catching herself. Another step and there was no ground beneath her. She was falling.
For an eternity she plummeted, her arms grasping but never connecting with anything she might hold on to. Cries of fear sounded from the dark below her. Or were they beside her? It was impossible to tell. Twisting and falling in the darkness, she had no sense of direction.
With her eyes blinded, she could do no more than listen to the sounds in the darkness. Children. Definitely the shrieks of children, terrified for their lives. The crackle of flames and the smell of burnt flesh. It was all too much. She flailed in the darkness, begging for the vision to stop.
A flash of light, lavender fading to white. She squinted her eyes against it. The light began to spin, pulling at her. Resisting, she forced herself back somehow. Shadows moved within the light. I mustn’t touch it, she told herself. An arm, thin and skeletal reached forth from the light.
“No!” she shouted, bolting upright.
Taren rushed to her side, kneeling at her pallet. “Another vision?” he asked.
“Darkness and cries of fear,” she said. “Burning and death. I didn’t let it touch me.” She wiped her face with her hand. Both were covered in sweat.
“Your powers must be growing,” he said. “How did you stop the shadow from touching you?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Force of will,” he said. “You’re stronger than you look.”
Laying his hands on her head, he began chanting. The rhythm was soothing, and she felt a tingling throughout her body. Her fear melted away, leaving only a sense of calm.
“That will help for a time,” he said. “It might get you through the night. The draught should work better, but it takes four days to complete.”
“The herbs are still melding,” Leko said. “They have yet to work their magic.”
“And then I’ll lay a spell on them as well,” Taren said. “Let’s hope it’s enough.”
Pia relaxed back into her pallet. No thoughts entered her mind, only the sensations of peace and tranquility. Not a care entered her mind, the darkness entirely forgotten. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to a deep sleep.
Chapter 11
“Try this,” Leko said, offering the girl a wrinkled piece of fruit.
“What is it?” she asked. It looked like an orange that had dried out and shriveled to a third its normal size and grown warts.
“Back home we called it lizard fruit,” Leko said. Pulling out his knife he cut off a slice and handed it to her. When she wouldn’t take it, he bit into it himself, sucking the green inner flesh away from the rind.
“Mmm,” he said. “You’re missing out. They grow for only a month each year. I’m surprised we found them in this forest.”
Hesitating, Pia looked to Embyr. “Are they as good as he says?” she asked.
“Sure,” she replied. “If you like the taste of dirt.” Grinning, she quickened her pace to join Taren at the front of the group.
“She’s joking,” Leko said. “Try it before it’s all gone.” He took off another slice and ate the flesh. “Or maybe I won’t share.”
Laughing, Pia finally reached for a slice. Licking it at first, she tasted tartness. It wasn’t unpleasant, so she bit into it, the juice dribbling down her chin. “It’s good,” she said, a note of surprise in her voice.
“Told you,” Leko replied. “I’ll save a few for later.” Whispering, he added, “We won’t let those two have any.”
Pia hadn’t seen Taren eat anything but meat, and he didn’t bother to cook it. Dragons probably didn’t eat fruit. She wondered how many of his human characteristics were gone forever, and if he missed having them. The only advantage to that state would be the ability to fly. Soaring above the clouds must be the most liberating feeling in the world.
“Why doesn’t Taren fly us all where we’re going?” Pia asked. “Surely he could carry the weight.”
Leko laughed. “Remember what happened when you touched him? If you tried to sit on him, you’d be burnt through by the time you got where you were going.” Laughing, he added, “That’s not the look I’m going for.”
Now she understood. It was an impossibility because of the heat produced by his scales. “Are all dragons the same?” The symbol gave Taren his shifting ability. Perhaps it made him into a unique type of dragon.
“I couldn’t say,” Leko replied. “He’s the only one I’ve met.” He offered her another slice of fruit, which she gladly accepted.
Her mind began to wander, picturing different types of dragons. There were thousands of different birds, so why not of dragons as well? Images came to her mind, and she altered them, changing around the patterns of scales. Realizing she was focusing too hard on the images, she stopped herself and began humming a song.
* * * * *
Checking behind her, Embyr made sure that Pia was far enough back not to hear. She and Leko seemed to be enjoying themselves. Moving next to Taren, she said, “I think you should take it easy on Pia.”
“What?” Taren asked.
“She’s only a child, and you’ve put the weight of the world on her shoulders,” she replied.
“I’m not the designer of her destiny,” he said.
“No, but you’re her teacher,” she replied. “Her path is dark and full of trials. She’s going to need guidance.”
“And I will give it,” he said.
Trying again, she said, “Not magical guidance. Well, she does need that, but she needs someone to comfort her and walk her through all this. A father.”
“She already has one of those,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but he’s not here, and from what she’s said, he wasn’t very supportive in the first place. You can be a father to her.”
“I doubt it,” Taren replied.
“You’ve been one to me,” she said. “I never knew my real father, and you’ve made up for it a hundred times.”
“I must keep some distance between myself and the girl,” Taren replied. “It’s the best way for her to learn.”
“Like the way you were trained,” she said. “Are you sure that’s the best way for her?”
“It’s the only way I know how,” he replied. “The situation is urgent. She must learn and quickly if we’re to have any chance. The rift grows wider by the day. In time it will grow too large to be put back together. There won’t be time for her excuses. I can’t hold her hand.”
“Fine,” Embyr replied. “Just try to keep your temper in check. One of your blowups and she’ll shut down completely. Then you might not have a student at all.”
She returned to Pia, leaving Taren to ponder her words.
Father.
That was something he could never truly be. He’d missed his chance many years ago. The image of Lilla, the woman he’d loved, the woman he’d married. She was a La’kertan, a reptilian race, her scales a glistening orange. Eyes of bright blue flashed in his mind. The two had shared a mutual love of herbalism, and she’d been his teacher for a time. He’d mastered the craft in his homeland, but her knowledge of island plants was remarkable. She’d shared this knowledge, and the two had fallen in love.
Pain plagued Taren’s heart as memories of her flooded back to him. All this time, and he still hadn’t forgotten her. They had tried to have children, but it wasn’t meant to be. They were too different. It didn’t matter. She was enough, and all he could have asked for.
When she died, she took his
heart with her. It was the worst day of his life. Many days were now forgotten, even those that seemed so important at the time. But that day he recalled in vivid detail, to her very last breath.
He had never loved again. He would not. Nothing could replace what he shared with Lilla. There was no use trying.
He sighed, reflecting on all the years he’d spent without her. Centuries of solitude hadn’t healed his heart. Embyr and Leko were the first companions he’d allowed to travel with him for any significant amount of time. He enjoyed their company. They were the children he never had. Lilla would have loved them.
What would she think of Pia? He glanced back at the girl, her laugh ringing like music through the darkened forest. She was so young. Lilla would agree with Embyr. Taren needed to be patient with the girl and give her time to grow into her destiny.
If only the situation weren’t so urgent. There would be time to nurture her, to train her properly.
* * * * *
The small company stopped near a creek and replenished their dwindling supply of water. It was fresh and cool, and a perfect place for rest.
“We’ll stay here a while,” Taren said, to the relief of his companions.
Leko immediately plopped down, leaning his back against a tree. Embyr took her time removing her pack and rearranging the contents inside. Pia was about to join her when Taren motioned her over.
“It’s time for your next lesson,” he said.
Pia’s heart leapt. She was about to learn something other than staying quiet and listening.
“Sit here,” he said, pointing to a flat stone near the creek.
She sat cross-legged on top of the stone, its cold surface causing her to shiver.
“Ignore the cold,” he said. “It will warm to you.” Placing his hand on her back, he said, “Straighten your back.”
She sat up tall.
“Straighter,” he said.
Lifting her chin, she tried to force her back straighter. It didn’t feel like she’d moved, but he seemed satisfied by her effort.
“Close your eyes,” he said.
She obeyed.
“Breathe deeply,” he told her. “Don’t focus your mind. Let it go empty.”
Breathing was the easy part. Stopping her mind was not. Her excitement refused to abate, and she couldn’t help wondering what was coming next. She was about to cast her first spell. Her eyes fluttered and she squeezed them tighter, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“Clear your mind,” he reminded her.
The sound of his steps suggested he was walking away. Opening one eye, she saw him turn away, striding toward the others.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he said without turning around.
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and then another. After a few minutes, she let her back slump.
“Keep your back straight,” Taren called to her.
She sat up tall, her forearms resting against her knees. How long did she have to sit like this, and when was she going to cast a spell? Frustrated, she slouched again.
Taren’s footsteps drew near. “Sit up straight, and stay that way,” he said. “Keep your eyes closed, and empty your mind.”
“I want to cast a spell,” she said.
“Spells will come later,” he replied. “Do as I told you.”
“How long do I have to sit like this?” she asked.
“Until I tell you otherwise.” His tone suggested his patience was waning.
“Do I—”
“No more questions,” he said, cutting her off.
“I thought a good student asked lots of questions.”
“Good students do as they’re told,” he replied. “Questions come later.”
Pia sat stone still, hoping to prove to him that she could master this exercise, even if it seemed pointless. He’s testing me, she thought. He wants proof that I can listen to his directions. It’s his way of teaching me to do the spells the way he says, not my own way. She shuddered, remembering how her own spell had summoned the wraith. I can do this, she thought.
Keeping the correct posture, she tried to clear her mind. Thoughts came unbidden, and she tried to tell them to go away. But she was still thinking. Focusing on her breathing, she tried to think only of the air as it moved through her lungs.
I’m still thinking, she told herself. An idea formed, and she decided on a different approach. She focused her closed eyes on the inside of her eyelids. Blackness. Nothingness. Her mind went blank. Time passed, but she didn’t notice it. Calm and silent, she sat near the creek, thinking of nothing.
“You’re doing well,” Taren’s voice said.
The sound didn’t startle her. She maintained her posture, ignoring his words until she felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Listen,” he said. “Only with your ears. Let your mind stay empty. Listen only to the sound of the water.”
Trickling along to places unknown, Pia listened to the sounds of the stream. Soft, musical, its song unchanging.
“Good,” Taren said. He walked away, leaving her to listen for some time. When he returned, he said, “Open your eyes.”
When she did, she saw the stream first, its rushing water foaming as it passed over a pile of smooth stones. The desire to move toward it swept over her, but she maintained her posture, waiting for her teacher to instruct her.
“Stand,” he said. “Go to the water.” He followed close behind her as she carefully stepped toward the creek. Kneeling down, he motioned for her to do likewise. “Place your hand in the water and close your eyes.”
It was cold, clean. She enjoyed the feel of it on her skin. Her mind filled only with the image of the water, the sound of its motion still echoing in her ears.
“Cup your hands and smell the water,” he said.
There was a faint scent that she couldn’t easily describe. It was like morning and springtime with a slight hint of citrus.
“Now taste it,” he said.
Sweetness. It was sweet against her tongue. Cool and refreshing, she felt the water as it traveled down her throat and settled in her stomach. It was rejuvenating. A swelling of energy spread through her body.
“Open your eyes,” Taren said.
She did. A flash of violet shone in them. Taren smiled. “You are ready.”
With both mind and body at ease, she bowed her head to her teacher.
Guiding her hand, he placed it on a stone in the water. “Remove the stone,” he said. “Place it here.” He indicated a spot on the ground between them.
The rock was heavier than she expected, but she pulled it free of the mud and lifted it from the water. Placing it where he’d indicated, she awaited his instructions.
“Keep your hand on the stone,” he said. “Close your eyes. Tell me what you feel.”
“Cold,” she said. “Wetness.”
“Not all of the stone is cold,” he said. “Not all of it is wet. Find the stone’s warmth.”
Pia didn’t contemplate the absurdity of his words. Instead, she turned all her thoughts to the stone, and her physical connection with it. Her fingers searched the stone’s surface. Where was it? Every inch seemed wet and cold. Keep looking, she told herself. Minutes passed, but she continued to examine the stone. Deep inside she felt something. A spark? Yes, it was there. A small amount of warmth hidden deep inside the rock.
“Draw the heat toward you,” Taren told her.
How? She wanted to ask, but she didn’t. Staying attuned to the warmth, she reached out to it with her mind. Bringing it toward her, she felt it enter her palm.
“Good,” Taren said. “Open your eyes.”
When she looked at the stone, it had a faint blue glow. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound escaped. She looked up at Taren. An approving smile found its way to his lips. Her heart softened. “I did it,” she said.
He nodded. “On your first try too,” he said. “You have great potential.”
She pulled her hands together and clenched them against her heart.
“I learned a spell!” she said, excited. “Teach me another!” she said.
“That’s enough for now,” he said. “You can use that spell to light a campfire. Then you will spend the rest of the evening in mediation.”
The girl nodded eagerly, hurrying toward camp. A pile of stones had been placed at the center. Taren must have put them there in anticipation of her success. She felt humbled by his confidence in her. Kneeling by the stones, she tried to repeat the same process. When she opened her eyes, nothing had happened.
“You’re too eager,” Taren said. “Clear your mind.”
She tried again, but still nothing.
“Don’t rush it,” he said. “It takes practice. Begin with meditation.”
Frowning, Pia felt discouraged. Why couldn’t she just draw the heat like before? With a sigh, she sat near the stones and closed her eyes. Repeating the process, she tried to clear her mind. She was trying too hard. Thoughts came and went, though she tried to force them away. Taking a deep breath, she searched for the music of the stream. It was faint, but she could hear it. When her mind began to clear, she reached for the stones. She found the heat quicker in the dry rocks than she had in the other, and her confidence grew. Drawing the heat toward her, she felt it spring to life against her palm. Removing her hand, she opened her eyes.
A blue glow spread among the piled stones, heat radiating from them. “There’s no flame,” she said.
“No,” Taren replied. “It is magefire. It produces no flame, but it gives heat.”
“Does this mean I’m a mage now?” she asked.
“You always have been.”
Chapter 12
Each day began with mediation, and Pia struggled to keep herself still. She yearned to do more than simply sit in silence. She never saw Taren meditate. He waved his hand and performed magic when he wanted. Why did she have to perform this boring ritual?
Her lack of effort made mediation difficult, and her progress slowed. She learned a few more spells, her favorite of which was tapping into wood for its heat to produce a true flame. She looked forward to learning how to conjure light from the air. Taren performed the spell daily thanks to the darkening sky, and she envied it each time. She wanted to learn everything immediately, not waste time sitting cross-legged and clearing her mind.