by Aaron Hodges
Eric stood and walked around the fire to sit beside her. By the firelight, he saw one of the gashes on her face had split and was bleeding again. He offered her the water skin and then gently pressed a damp cloth to her face to stem the bleeding.
She grasped the skin and took a long swig. She sighed as she finished. “Water never tasted so good.”
Eric removed the cloth as she took another mouthful. Then she handed it back, her eyes now sharp and alert. Eric could almost see the questions ticking over in her mind.
“Thank you, kind stranger,” her big hazel eyes stared up at him. “May I ask who you are?”
Eric grinned. “My name is Eric and my old friend is Alastair. We’re travelling to Chole. You’re lucky we saw you as we passed.”
Inken offered him her good hand, although it was still scratched and torn. Eric took it gently.
“Thank you, Eric. I owe you and Alastair my life. I’m Inken. I made a foolish mistake deciding to travel to Oaksville by the desert path. I was lucky my mare was able to outrun the beast that attacked us. Sadly, before I could stop her she tripped on the uneven ground, nearly killing the both of us.”
Eric stilled at the mention of Oaksville. He scarcely heard the rest of the story, his heart sinking at the thought of breaking the news to her. He could already see the grief and tears on her face, and wondered who it was she had risked so much to visit.
Everything seemed to come back to that single, horrific mistake.
“I’m sorry, Inken. I don’t know how to say this, but we came through Oaksville. There wasn’t much left of the town,” he spoke the words softly.
Inken nodded and her eyes closed tight with pain. “Argh, everything hurts. I know what happened to Oaksville. The town’s Magistrate sent a letter. He offered a lot of gold for the head of the one who did it. I was planning on claiming it.”
Eric’s blood ran cold. He gaped, the muscles of his neck growing taught. He shivered, suddenly seeing Inken in another light. The lines of her face seemed to harden, a dark glint appearing in her eyes. He saw now the thick muscles of her arms and shoulders as those of a warrior, of a hunter.
His eyes flickered to the dagger at her side. Her fingers lingered near its hilt. He wished now they had disarmed her while she lay unconscious. An icy hand seized his heart. What if she finds out who I am?
He realised she was staring and that he had not said anything for some time. He gave himself a mental shake. “You are a brave woman. The wreckage that was left in Oaksville,” he shook his head.
Inken chuckled. “I’m no longer sure if I was brave – or stupid. Trying to tackle the desert alone was certainly a bad move. I had given up hope when you appeared. I certainly don’t have a chance in hell of claiming the reward now.”
“Perhaps it’s for the best. How could you have killed such a powerful demon?”
Inken absently flicked a strand of hair from her face. “Demon, Magicker, or mortal, an arrow from the shadows will kill most things.”
Eric gulped, his voice deserting him.
Alastair’s return saved him. He reappeared without warning, his footsteps somehow silent as he walked across the gravel. He sat down opposite them, letting a pile of firewood tumble to the ground.
“Hello, you must be Alastair,” Inken greeted him.
Alastair smiled. “I am, and you are Inken.”
She nodded. “So why are the two of you travelling to Chole?”
When Alastair did not answer, Eric spoke. “You’ll have to weasel that out of Alastair, I’m just tagging along,” he hesitated. “Perhaps you should get some sleep for now though,” Eric no longer felt much like talking. Being around someone looking to kill him had robbed all the enjoyment from the conversation.
Moving away, he lay down on the hard ground and closed his eyes. The world seemed to rock beneath him. He struggled to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach. Alastair had mentioned the motion of the horses could linger sometimes after a long ride. It would pass though – he only had to endure.
He heard Alastair move over to the fire and stir the pot of stew. The flames crackled as he added more wood to the fire. Eric licked his lips, stomach growling. He hoped the food would be ready soon.
His thoughts returned to the enigmatic Inken. Just thinking of her made his heart race. Beneath the burns and bruises, it was obvious she was a beautiful girl. And a very dangerous foe. Despite her seemingly agreeable nature, bounty hunters were notoriously ruthless. If she discovered who they really were, Eric had little doubt she would turn on them.
He found himself wondering whether they should just leave her in the desert. Then he shook his head, angry at the selfish thought. He could not leave an innocent girl to die, whether she wished to kill him or not. That would only make him as bad as the demon they thought him to be.
“It’s ready,” Alastair announced.
Eric opened his eyes and took the wooden bowl Alastair offered him. The thick stew gave off a rich aroma of meat and herbs, although there was little substance to it.
“Give it to Inken,” he said.
Eric gave a reluctant nod and moved across to the injured woman. From the slow rise and fall of her chest she appeared to be asleep, but her eyes snapped open as he approached. She offered a smile when she saw him. “Ah, my hero returns. And with food. The two of you are resourceful, aren’t you?”
Eric found his smile as he offered the bowl.
Inken reached out a hand to take it, then hesitated. Her cheeks flushed. “I’m not sure I can hold it,” she opened her hands to show the raw flesh of her palms. She hesitated. “Do you… do you think you could help me?” her face turned crimson. This was a girl used to taking care of herself.
Eric felt his own face grow hot. Just sitting near the young woman made him nervous. Sweat trickled down his neck. A confusing string of emotions ran through his head. “I, I…” he stuttered.
“Please, Eric?”
Eric looked at her, lying there helpless, begging for his help. She had come so close to death in the desert and she was not out of the woods yet. Her broken arm lay limp at her side and he could see the muscles in her neck twitching with pain. The grazes on her hands were so deep you could almost see the bone.
He nodded at last, casting aside his doubts. “Okay.”
Digging into the bowl, he offered her a spoonful of broth. It disappeared into her mouth. She closed her eyes and chewed, making even that simple task look to be an effort. However, it did not take long for her to finish, so he offered another mouthful.
Eric found himself smiling. The whole situation was surreal. Here he was, spoon-feeding a woman hired to kill him.
Her burns were almost invisible in the dim firelight. Eric studied her as she ate, finding himself torn. He searched for a hint of the killer in the glint of her eyes, or the sharp curve of her cheekbones. Yet all he could see was her injured beauty. He could not connect the girl before him with the image of a ruthless bounty hunter.
When she had finished the stew, Eric stood and returned to his own patch of gravel. Alastair offered him another bowl and Eric happily gulped it down. His stomach rumbled as he ate, grateful for the meal.
“Eat quickly, Eric. You’ll need your strength. We have time for one more lesson before we reach Chole and I think we had better make good use of it.”
“Ssh,” Eric glimpsed at Inken to see if she had heard, but saw her eyes had closed.
Alastair waved a hand. “Don’t worry about her. I waited a while outside the firelight and heard you talking. I slipped a pinch of sleeping herb into her bowl. She’ll sleep through the night now.”
Eric took a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves. “What do we do with her?”
Alastair shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t believe she has made any connection between us and her quarry. So long as we’re careful, there shouldn’t be any danger. Now finish that stew. We have some real magic to learn now.”
Eric swallowed the last morsel and placed the bowl
beside him. The meat had been tough and the vegetables tasteless, but even so he could feel the energy returning to his arms and legs. He hoped it would keep him going until they reached Chole.
Alastair walked from the firelight and into the night. Eric followed, eyes drawn to the deep shadows of the canyon. If any beasts were lurking, they had just moved into their territory.
Alastair stopped and faced him. “Okay. As you know, magic at its most basic level is controlled by the emotions. Fear, anger, love, hate; it will respond to each if not properly managed. To harness the power and bend it to our own will, you must discover how your magic and your emotions are linked. We achieve this through meditation.”
“Meditation?”
“Meditation is a technique apprentices usually learn at a young age, which allows them to develop control of the mind and body. Eventually, it allows a Magicker to find the link between their emotions and magic, and summon their powers at will,” he paused, his eyes growing unfocused. Around them pieces of gravel gently lifted into the air. “In other words, it will allow you to manipulate the weather, rather than your emotions.”
“Right now I’d be happy just to stop myself losing control,” Eric sighed.
Alastair smiled. “That will be a start. I hope with time you will be capable of far more than that. There are certain dangers to consider before then, but they are some way down the road. Now, let us begin. Sit down and cross your legs, laying your hands gently at your side,” Alastair moved into the posture as he spoke.
Eric copied the old man, the hard desert gravel digging into his backside. Grimacing, he shifted until he felt more comfortable, then looked back to Alastair.
“Close your eyes and try to clear the thoughts from your mind. Take a deep breath and exhale slowly, until all the air has been emptied from your chest.”
Eric closed his eyes and sucked in a mouthful of air. The muscles of his chest stretched and then compressed as he released the breath in a drawn out sigh. He repeated the exercise, smiling. This was easy. He wondered whether the old man was playing a joke.
“You’re thinking, Eric,” Alastair’s voice broke across his thoughts.
Eric’s eyes snapped open. “What?” he glared.
“Your eyes were flickering beneath your eyelids. Think of nothing, Eric. It’s okay, most take a long time to master the practice. Try again.”
Eric nodded, slightly shaken by Alastair’s interruption.
Alastair stopped him again after another minute. “You’re still thinking too much.”
Eric sighed. His mind kept flickering from one thought to the next, unable to turn off. So much had happened in the last few days; it was all too much for him to simply set it aside.
“It can help to repeat a word each time you exhale.”
“Like what?”
“Well, when I was an apprentice we were told to breath out ‘ing’.”
“I don’t think that’s even a word, Alastair.”
The old man scowled. “Just try it. By focusing on something benign, you will find it easier to allow your other thoughts to fall away.”
Eric grimaced. “Okay, I’ll give it a go.”
He closed his eyes again and breathed out, whispering ‘ing’ as he did so. In, out. In, out. In, out. His heart slowed and the tension began to fade from his shoulders. The word vibrated through his consciousness, his worries fading away before it. All sensation seemed to be drifting away on a sea of black.
I’m doing it, he exulted.
The thought shattered his concentration. He opened his eyes and grinned at Alastair. “I think I had it for a second there.”
Alastair grinned and stood. “Good, keep practising then,” he stretched his arms. “Call me if you need a hand, I won’t be far away. I’m going to go keep watch.”
The old man disappeared. Eric sat back and started again, convinced there would be no more surprise attacks. Alastair looked stronger than ever now, his injuries from both the city guards and the beast fully healed. Antonia’s magic had done wonders.
Gradually he sank again into the calm centre of his mind, beyond the distractions of the world outside. It came faster this time. Now even the slow thump of his heart and stretch of his chest was disappearing into the vast ocean. He was left alone, cut off from sensation, from all sense of time. He drifted, separate from himself, a ghost within his own mind.
After a time, a memory surfaced once more. It was here amidst the tranquillity of his inner mind that he would find his magic. The thought infused him with purpose and he turned his inner eyes to the search.
A speck of blue light appeared in the distance. The radiance drew him towards it, slowly at first and then growing faster, until he became a blazing arrow. The speck grew to a lake of blue, stretching out before him, immense and overwhelming.
Instantly, he knew what it was. This was the source of his magic.
Its glow washed over him, its warmth intoxicating. Thin threads of light rose from the waters and drifted towards him. Tentative tendrils stroked his consciousness, gently wrapping about him. Eric felt a surge of power at each new connection. He could hear it calling to him, hungry. He sensed its need and felt his own desire flooding him. This force, this power, it could give him whatever he desired. He had only to use it.
He floated closer, the threads weaving around him, tiny hooks burying themselves in his mind. He no longer noticed, swallowed by the magic’s call.
He toppled towards the lake below.
The light rose up to meet him, changing, becoming not a lake but the jaws of a great wolf. Teeth crashed shut as it swallowed him and the blue light crawled inside.
A rush of fear rose in Eric. Drowning, panicking, he tried to wake. Instead, the tendrils of magic wrapped more tightly about him, drawing him deeper into recesses of his mind.
Freed of its prison, the wolf blazed brighter, teeth glittering, hair bristling. It grew, even as Eric shrank in terror. He could feel it merging with him, its hunger eating away his resistance until they became one.
Eric opened his body’s eyes, but they were no longer his own to control. The force within was master now, flowing through his veins and muscles, flooding them with power. His body tensed and he lifted to his feet.
His body looked around. Invisible wisps of magic stretched out around him, searching, seeking out power, seeking the storm. Over the rainforests to the west, they found it.
The storm clouds had been building through the day, growing strong off the moist air. Their energy grew with each minute, water and air and dust smashing to create friction, igniting the lightning within. It waited to be unleashed.
The magic tore great chunks from the clouds, drawing it across the miles to where his body waited. It arrived with a crash of thunder and blast of light, as the lightning struck the ground. It rushed towards Eric, the crackling electricity scorching wherever it touched. Roaring, it gathered around him. Thunder boomed again and again, new bolts tumbling from the sky to join the conflagration.
Eric lifted his fists in exaltation, while deep within his mind a voice screamed. But the magic, the power, was everything now. Exhilarating, intoxicating, indestructible.
“Eric, stop!” a voice shouted over the thunder.
Eric raised an arm towards the speaker. No enemy would rob him of this power now. Blue lightning crawled along his arm, tingling where it touched. As it reached his fingertips, it leapt. A bolt of lightning shrieked through the night. He watched the shadowy figure dive from its path. Light flashed as it struck the cliff behind him, leaving only molten rock.
“Eric, listen to me. I am Alastair, your teacher!”
The name was familiar, but he shook his head. He needed no teacher now.
Another bolt chased Alastair into the darkness. The world was burning again, but now Eric breathed it in with relish, revelling in the smell. Yet still the man escaped him.
“Die!” he screamed into the night. Flashes of lightning shot from him, leaving tracks in his vision long
after they passed.
“Eric, you must stop this. The magic will destroy you. Remember Oaksville!”
Eric broke off his attack. The word reverberated in his mind, cutting a track right to his soul. Some small, forgotten part of him grabbed for it like a lifeline in the open sea. Sanity clawed its way back from the deepest recesses of his mind. Horror struck him as he took in the world around him. Bile rose in his throat.
Oaksville, Oaksville, Oaksville. The word rung out again and again, drawing him back.
Yet the magic rose again, burning away thought and reason. Eric gritted his teeth, determined to force it down, guilt eating away at fear. He would not let it consume him – he must tame this monster inside him.
The lightning around him flickered, but he could not let it go. Its heat radiated on his skin, stinging now where it touched, as his magic receded. If he released it now, it would destroy everything around him. Alastair and Inken would be helpless before it.
Eric sucked in a breath and with it drew the lightning to him. It danced over his skin, closer and closer, until it seemed his flesh itself was alive with electricity. Then, to his astonishment, it began to sink beneath. He did not stop to think.
He could not afford to hesitate, or the lightning might escape. Within he could still feel the lightning’s sting. He gripped it and forced it deeper. He sank again into his inner mind, determined this time not to lose control and drew the lightning and magic with him. The power fought against him, the electric blue lightning merging with the magic. He drove them deeper, driven by instinct.
The lake appeared again. He directed the writhing ball of energy towards it and hurled it into the depths. Not a ripple broke as it disappeared beneath the calm surface.
Eric opened his eyes and collapsed. Footsteps crunched on gravel. He fought to move but found his muscles locked in paralysis. Not even his eyes would obey his weary mind. He stared up at the stars in terror.
Alastair stood over him, his face grim. “Too close,” he shook his head. “I am sorry, Eric. That was my fault. I have never seen anyone go so far, so fast. Magic is both friend and foe. Most do not discover this for years. But tonight you met the beast that lives within you and survived. Next time it will be easier. Rest now,” reaching down, he closed Eric’s eyes with a gentle hand.
