Dra’kor blushed, refocused, rolled up his sleeves and gave it another try. This time, the little water ball pulsed, blobbed, and quivered for a couple seconds before it broke apart. Dra’kor’s face lit up brightly.
“By the Ten!” Dra’kor swore, putting his hand over his mouth. “Sorry!” He immediately apologized.
“That’s all right,” Sheila murmured. “That was better.”
“That felt different!” he exclaimed excitedly, looking up into Sheila’s face. “I think I felt something —”
“Do you want to try again?” she said, seeing his delight. She smiled back warmly,
Dra’kor nodded vigorously and extended his hand again. Sheila dropped the little ball into his palm. Dra’kor stared at the ball and tried rubbing it all over with his mind, just as he had before. The little ball shook, quivered, and bulged, but he managed to keep it in shape for a huge three seconds before it undulated violently and broke apart.
Sheila watched as Dra’kor bit his tongue and contorted his face as he tried to control the ball. It made her laugh.
Dra’kor looked up and saw her smiling. “What?”
“It’s nothing …,” she muttered under her breath, “but you’re making faces.”
Dra’kor smiled. He could feel how different this was from the magic he had claimed to possess before. He was shocked at the fact that he had never discovered this on his own.
“I’m getting it,” he said excitedly as he looked over to Men’ak. Men’ak was still struggling so he ignored Dra’kor’s cries of victory.
He focused his mind again. “Once more,” he demanded
Sheila dropped another medium sized water ball into his palm. Dra’kor tried to relax and feel the water and the flow and for a second, he had it. The ball stayed in shape and sat there in the palm of his hand. Three seconds passed then four, then five.
“I got it! I got it!” he shouted in glee, glancing over at Men’ak. Right at that moment, as his concentration frazzled, the ball burst splashing him with water from head to toe.
Dra’kor sat there, hands dripping with the biggest smile on his face. He was a mage after all! He felt a huge sense of accomplishment. He realized that he had not felt this good about himself or something he had done in so long, he couldn’t even recall the last time.
“Good job,” Sheila said, reaching over and giving him a hug. She was very proud of him. He had only been at it for a few hours and he was already beginning to figure it out. She could see his amateur weaves, clumsy though they were, but still, they were there and they were beginning to have structure!
Dra’kor blushed. He had not expected the hug and the touch of her skin and the smell of her hair had caught him off guard. Sheila noticed the blush, but said nothing.
“I think I need a short break. My head hurts and I’m pretty exhausted,” Dra’kor said, wiping the sweat from his brow. He straightened his back. All those hours of leaning over was really making him stiff.
“Sure, we can take a breather for a bit. You’ve been at it for almost three hours straight. You’re probably feeling the effect of not being able to touch the beast’s magic.”
Dra’kor’s head shot up.
“You’re feeling yourself getting old. You should feel better almost as soon as you go outside. How about we take a half-hour’s rest?” Sheila asked, standing up from the chair.
Dra’kor nodded. He looked over at Men’ak who was still not having any luck with controlling his blob.
“Don’t wait too long to take a break,” Dra’kor shouted. “We don’t want you using a cane!”
Men’ak irritably waved him off. Since his friend wasn’t ready for a break, Dra’kor went out the front door alone to wash his face and get some fresh air. He smiled because his aches, pains, and headache almost immediately went away. The clear mountain air felt good. They had the windows of the small cabin closed to prevent prying eyes from seeing something they shouldn’t.
Sheila followed him outside after grabbing a big slice of bread that was still out on the table.
“I can’t believe I was feeling so horrible after such a short period away from the Zylliac,” Dra’kor exclaimed, “it makes me want to work even harder. I can’t fathom how I would feel after a couple days … I’m unable to imagine what Ja’tar’s sister went through. Poor To’paz!”
Sheila knew that he probably wouldn’t last a couple of days without the magic, but she didn’t say anything. There was no sense in making him worry about something he was trying to do something about. That kind of stress makes people crazy. He needed all his faculties to concentrate and learn.
“You know, we killed three more of those wolven this morning when I was outside spellcasting the fields. We left them outside the gate on the east side of the town,” Dra’kor offered up, knowing she was still looking for more to complete their rug.
“I’ll check that out this evening,” said Sheila, acknowledging the fact that he was trying to help. She wasn’t sure she wasn’t still mad at him, but he was turning out to be a far nicer person than she had made him out to be. She was beginning to see that he was as big a victim as she and everyone else. She took a bite of the bread and chewed slowly.
Dra’kor finished rinsing off his face from the rain-barrel under the roof, walked over to one of the big oaks and sat down, leaning his back against the mighty tree.
He closed his eyes and listened to the wind and birds, enjoying the feel of the breeze through his hair. He appreciated that he was outside the Keep and no matter what eventually would become of him; he knew that he would savor these moments long after he returned. Of course, if he learned to control the magic, he wouldn’t need a medallion and no one could really stop him if he wanted to leave for a while. He smiled to himself. The thought of true independence made him giddy.
Sheila walked over and crouched down next to him. “Can I join you?”
Dra’kor motioned for her to sit, tapping the grass and said, “Please.”
Sheila curled up on the grass adjacent to where Dra’kor was so that she could look into his face as they talked.
“What are you thinking?”
“I was thinking about this morning. The magic I cast was strong enough to rid the fields of the shadow beast, but didn’t work at all on the catomen or wolven.”
“Well, mom knows more, but as I understand it, the stronger the magic is, the less it will work. It seems the Ten were more worried about being attacked than anything else, so the beast can’t form spells that do real damage, to either demons, nor to other magi. I could be wrong, but that’s the idea of it anyway.”
“I suppose. I still can’t believe we never noticed this in the Keep, but considering that the Keep is warded with ancient spells from before Ror, I guess it makes sense. We haven’t had to fight off any threats over the years, at least not that I can recall.”
Sheila nodded, “That’s probably it.”
“You know that for over six-hundred years, I was never once outside of the outer wall of the Keep?” Dra’kor said, out of nowhere. “Now, it’s not as bad as it sounds because the Keep is like a very gigantic castle so there are gardens and stuff, but still. I’ve never been off the grounds. I spent a little time by the moat … You know what I mean?”
“I’ve never lived anywhere longer than a few years, ten at the most,” said Sheila. “When you never age, you can’t hang around any one place for too long — or return. People begin to ask questions and wonder. I got by with it once though.”
“How so —?”
“I said that Sheila was my mom,” she laughed. “Everyone said I looked just like her.”
Dra’kor never thought about it much, but it made sense. “That must have been rough growing up like that. At least I had all my friends in the Keep.”
“You don’t get to have too many friends on the outside,” she said sadly, with a sigh, “and everyone you know ends up dead. They grow old so fast! It’s very hard to watch. I had friends when I lived with the elves
for a while.”
Dra’kor nodded.
“Better not getting to know them,” she mumbled, staring up at the clouds through the thick canopy of leaves.
Dra’kor threw a blade of grass before he turned to face her. “Have you spent much time with your father?”
“Not really. He sent me to elf warrior training, but I don’t think I’ve had more than a dozen or so conversations with him over the years,” Sheila said, tossing a small rock at a bird that was trying to dig out a worm a few yards away. “He’s so busy with his clan and his other family … besides, I don’t really fit in.”
“That’s too bad. You know, after I went to the Keep, I didn’t see my dad until I went to his funeral,” said Dra’kor, reflecting back on how little contact he had with the outside world. “I can’t believe I didn’t hear from him or go see him in almost forty years. It passed in the blink of an eye. You don’t really have a sense of time in the Keep.”
“My father is still alive … but you wouldn’t know it.” Sheila said blankly.
“I guess that being a mage or a witch has its disadvantages …” Dra’kor said, smiling kindly.
“I guess,” said Sheila quietly, staring into the distance.
“Shouldn’t have to be that way.” Dra’kor said, thinking out loud.
“No, it shouldn’t,” she said as she pulled at the grass and stuck a long stem in her mouth to chew on the sweet end.
“Your Mom seems real nice,” Dra’kor said, with a big smile.
“She really is,” said Sheila, agreeing. “But after six-hundred years … let me tell you! Sometimes …”
They both looked at each other and burst into laughter.
“I feel exactly the same way about Men’ak and Grit. There are times … I could just strangle them!”
“Sorry about this Grit fellow,” she said. “Maybe he’ll show up.”
“Possible I guess,” he said. “We could really use his help. He seems to have a gift with the blade.”
“Well, we are in a better place than we were two days ago!” Sheila said. “Two days ago we were still waiting for the day that the Keep would send mages out into the world.”
“And here we are!”
“Here you are,” said Sheila quietly. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
Dra’kor glanced up. “Can’t stop you from asking.”
“Is Men’ak all right? He seems a little — slow witted.”
Dra’kor thought for a while before he replied. “I think it’s all a show. He knows well what’s going on, but uses it as a defense mechanism to stay unnoticed.”
“Why would he do that?”
Dra’kor shrugged. “I suppose it has a lot to do with how he was raised. His Pa was a short-tempered man and used to beat him something fierce. Men’ak probably found that if he acted dimwitted, his Pa cut him some slack. Of course that’s just a guess on my part.”
“Why’d his Pa whip him?”
“Men’ak’s small. When he was young, he was sick a lot. His Pa was a farmer and Men’ak didn’t pull his weight. I guess with eight mouths to feed, he just couldn’t deal with the way Men’ak was.”
Sheila shook her head side-to-side, “I’ll try not to tease him so much about it.”
“That would be best. Can you tell Hagra too?”
Sheila nodded.
Dra’kor turned to her, “What can you tell me about Toulereau and the knight brigade?”
“Not much to tell,” Sheila answered. “The brigade, and mind you, they ain’t knights by a long shot, set out about three weeks ago to help Toulereau with the beasts. We haven’t heard a word since. Word has it that there are more than just the beasts out there, but I got no proof. Oh, I see a small demon every now and then, but …”
“Town folks seem to be really worried …,” he sighed.
“Should be. I heard that Toulereau lost close to fifty men the past month to the critters, and them were trained knights.”
“Fifty?” Dra’kor mouthed silently.
“Toulereau came here personally to ask for help —,” said Sheila quietly. “He wouldn’t do that unless the situation was — dire. His warriors are highly skilled. It’s a bit embarrassing if you ask me!”
“Toulereau is a person?”
Sheila nodded. “He’s one of the last elven leaders. His family has been ruling this land for centuries, pretty much since the time of Ror. He’s a direct descendent of Zerra you know!”
“I thought the elves kept to themselves?”
“Most do,” Sheila grumbled. “That’s part of the problem …”
“But not Toulereau?”
“No, not Toulereau,” Sheila replied, and she added under her breath, “I wish there were more like him around …”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Sheila replied. “Just grumbling …”
They had been sitting in the shade talking for almost forty-five minutes when Men’ak came staggering out.
“I feel horrible,” Men’ak groaned as he rubbed his head and the small of his back. He was all pasty white and his eyes were puffy. He couldn’t even stand up straight.
“Of course you do,” Hagra said, as she came striding out of the shop after him. She grabbed him by the arm and steadied him as he walked. “You’ve been out of touch with the Zylliac for almost five hours. I’m surprised you’re still standing!”
Men’ak looked at the three as if they had kept some big secret from him, “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I did,” Dra’kor said. “You waved me off.”
“Well, if it was important you should have —,” he grumbled as his cheeks quivered. “— grabbed me or somethi …”
Dra’kor just gave him a look.
“— I would have listened,” he said as his voice trailed off.
“You’ll start feeling better soon,” said Dra’kor softly. “It took me a few minutes before I felt better too.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Men’ak said, as he bent over at the waist, lowering his head to between his legs. Hagra placed her arm over his back and gently patted.
Sheila rolled her eyes.
“Did you have any luck?” Dra’kor eagerly asked.
Men’ak shook his head and waved him off, “Can’t talk right now.”
Hagra spoke up, “Aw! He’s doing all right. He’s starting to see where to go.”
Men’ak looked up as he swayed in place, immediately lowered his head again as his knees trembled. He tried to stand straight, but his legs gave out, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed like a sack of potatoes onto the grassy ground.
“Well, would you look at that! He just wore his self out and has been away from your beast for too long,” Hagra said, pooh-poohing him, as she wave him off.
Dra’kor’s mouth dropped open. He hadn’t realized how dire it would be to be cut off from magic, and here was his friend almost half dead after just a few short hours. He looked at Sheila and back at his friend, “We need to get practicing.”
After several more hours punctuated with breaks, Dra’kor was able to hold a water bubble in his hand for almost a full minute. He was bound and determined to master this. His life might depend upon it. For that matter, the future of the Keep may depend upon it.
“Now, try to push it around while you’re holding its shape,” Sheila suggested.
At first, it just quivered in place, but slowly, it moved up toward the tip of his fingers and then, back toward his wrist. Dra’kor was sweating profusely from the effort and his head was aching something fierce as his vision blurred from time to time. When his bubble burst, he announced that it was time to take another break.
“I’ll have to be going soon,” Dra’kor said, leaning over toward Sheila. “I still need to fix the grain before supper.”
“You will come back tomorrow,” she said in all seriousness.
Dra’kor smiled, “You can count on it. I’d stay here for the night if I could. We will stay in town
until we have enough control over the old magic to continue on our own for a while.”
“I hope you can afford to stay for another three or four days,” Sheila said, referring to the cost of the inn.
“Money is not a problem. Ja’tar gave us enough coin to last for at least a month, two at the price D’Arron is charging us. I haven’t the foggiest idea what to tell,” he shrugged.
She was curious to know what Dra’kor would say is the delay for their journey. “What will you tell him?”
Dra’kor looked into her eyes, “Ja’tar? Probably the truth —”
“You think that is wise?” she asked, a bit surprised at his answer. She leaned closer.
“Sure, why wouldn’t I?” Dra’kor replied, not understanding why she thought it wouldn’t be a good idea.
“Oh, I don’t know — but what if the Guild is really the Ten, or worse …” she mumbled looking away.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Dra’kor, shaking his head. “I guess I could make something up about the wolven attacks ….”
“That wouldn’t be too far from the truth,” Sheila nodded in agreement.
“— but I will tell him about Hagra,” Dra’kor said. “Maybe it will jar his memory a bit.”
“I think that is a great idea,” she said, turning in toward the mage.
Dra’kor waited for his friend to finish the last lesson. Men’ak was behind Dra’kor in ability, but he was making progress. He was almost to the point of being able to hold the ball of water in shape.
The two exhausted friends walked down the street, heading toward the general store, where Dra’kor had promised to treat the seeds so that they could replant the fields. They walked silently, each deep in thought about what the day had shown them.
They stopped in front of the shop. “I’ll be back as soon as I pretend to treat all their seed stock,” Dra’kor grumbled.
“Fine, I’ll see you back at the inn. I’m gonna take a nap,” Men’ak said, as he turned and shuffled down the dusty street. Dra’kor watched him for a second, sighed, and let himself inside of the tavern.
Brag looked up from his mead and frowned, “Where have ye been?”
The Legacy of the Ten: Book 01 - Eyes of the Keep Page 49
