"That's not it at all."
Cali pushed the pot towards him again and smiled. "Then light the paper."
He stared at the pot. The magic begged to be freed. He heard it calling. He reached for it, felt the fire spark, but he could not release it. Faces, contorted in fear and pain flashed before his eyes, and behind the faces were flames - flames that seared flesh and only left behind pain. "I can't." He closed his eyes, released the power, and pushed the pot towards Cali.
She shook her head. "Then you aren't ready to train, and you won't be until you can confront your fear and defeat it."
"I'll do anything else, but not this, not fire."
Mirayla cleared her throat. "We can keep you from destroying anything. There won't be a repeat of what happened in the mountains. Are you going to walk away without trying?"
He bowed his head. Not try? Anything he had tried in the past had been a failure. He expected no difference now. Only this time, the people watching him fail were people who cared about him, not his abilities. "I --" The iron pot glared at him from across the table. Anger, hot and bitter, spread through him. He grabbed the pot and slammed it on the table. The flames came at his silent call, and the paper lit, sending a streak of flame towards the ceiling. He shoved the burning pot away with a distasteful snarl.
Cali doused the flame with thought. "Good. Better than I'd hoped."
"I'm glad you approved." The words were harsher than he had intended, and he regretted them as soon as they were spoken. "I-I'm sorry."
"You've nothing to apologize for." She surveyed the pot with a practiced eye. "Good thing this wasn't one I like to cook with."
"Why?"
"Your fire cracked it, cut clean through." She sighed. "Remember, discipline and focus are the secret to magic. Those things will give you control. You let your emotions control your magic, and so you expend yourself needlessly. You have to distance yourself." She crumbled more paper. "Try it again, and this time, try to control it."
Again, the flames sat in his hands, and he stared at the pot. But this time he loosed a trickle of power, and lit the target with better control. He raised an eyebrow at Cali. "Was that better?"
"Better." She crumpled more paper. "But you still use far more energy than you need. Only a touch, Cree, just enough to light the paper. Try again."
Again, the paper flared to life, and again Cali made him repeat the process. Over and over, until at last, he could light the paper with absolute control. He sagged, smiling weakly at Cali and Mirayla. "Again?"
"No." Cali picked up the pot and frowned at the widening crack. "That's enough for the day. I would get some rest if I were you."
"Why?" He stood and stretched, relieving the tension in his back.
"Because we're going to do this over again tomorrow. This and more."
He licked parched lips. "More?" Surprisingly, he found himself looking forward to the lesson.
Cali smiled. "Oh, yes, much more."
He held out a hand to Mirayla and smiled at Cali. "I'll be here. We might even be early this time."
Cali laughed. "At the very least get here before noon."
"We'll try," he called as they left the room.
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* * *
Chapter Nineteen
"You're distracted," Cali said for the fifth time. "You have to concentrate."
Cree pulled his thoughts away from the coming council meeting and turned his attention back to Cali, trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing. He wished Mirayla was with him, but she had thought he and Cali needed time alone together. He had agreed, reluctantly. "I'm sorry. I can't seem to keep my thoughts here. Maybe we should just stop for the day."
Cali sighed and sat down heavily. "Maybe you should just share what's troubling you."
"It's nothing." He traced a crack in the wood of the table.
"Nothing?" She shook her head. "I doubt that. You've been with me now for three days, Cree. Have I given you any reason to believe I cannot be trusted?"
He shook his head. "It's not you. It's --" He struggled to find the words. "Sarana," he said at last. "He's here. I can feel him, and I'll have to see him at the council meeting." He hung his head and suppressed a shiver.
"I've blocked the link. He won't be able to use you." Cali folded her hands in front of her, and her expression grew serious. "That doesn't mean he won't try."
Cree stared at his hands. "He'll try." He clenched his hands into fists to stop them from trembling.
"What is it you are frightened of, Cree?" Cali laid a hand atop his.
He forced himself not to flinch at her touch and asked himself the same question. What was he frightened of? Not Sarana, he reasoned, though that seemed an obvious answer. The mage himself had long ago ceased to hold any fear for him. The pain? But that, too, held no fear; it was expected. There was only one answer. The magic. Magic - the instrument Sarana had tortured him with for years, the common thread in all his nightmares, the part of himself he hated most.
When he did not answer, Cali squeezed his hand and a sympathetic expression stole over her face. "Is it the pain?"
He shook his head. "No, it's the magic itself."
"I see." Cali pursed her lips. "Control, that's what we've been working on. You've started to learn true control now. You won't forget that when faced with Sarana."
"I don't worry that I'll lose control." An involuntary shudder ran down his spine. Losing control was the least of his fears, but having that control stripped away, terrified him.
Cali raised an eyebrow. "You're afraid control will be taken from you." She sighed. "I cannot promise he won't strike at you, but he should not be able to take your mind away."
"How can you know that?"
She smiled smugly. "I am confident in my abilities."
He slipped off the stool and paced the length of the room. "I wish I was as confident as you."
Cali grinned. "In time, you will be. I promise you, Cree, I can reverse the effects of what was done."
"Can you?" He stopped his pacing to stare at her, anger making his heart beat faster. "Can you really reverse the effect? You've no idea what magic's like for me. None!" He started pacing again.
Cali shook her head. "Anger and fear and pain. You are angry at what's been done. You are afraid of what might be done. And the very memories of your past training send you into shock. I can guess what you're feeling, Cree. I've seen the feelings before."
He stopped right in front of her and stared into her eyes. "But you haven't lived it."
"No, I have not, but I know someone who has."
"You do?"
Cali nodded. "Yes, and I can help you. If you'll let me."
He sat down again. He was silent a long moment, letting the meaning of her words sink in. Finally, he met her eyes and said, "How?"
"It's not easy, and you'll not like --"
"Just tell me." The words came out as a growl, anger making them harsher than he had intended. He clenched his fists and bottled the rage into a corner of his mind.
Cali stared at him for a long moment. "You have to face the memories, make the pain part of you --"
"It is part of me." The muscles in his shoulders and neck tightened painfully.
"You have to face them, Cree. Face the memories, and accept what has been done. Let the pain strengthen, rather than steal, your defenses." She paused and locked his gaze. "There is power in pain."
"Sarana said those very words to me." He resumed his pacing. "I thought you wanted me to forget everything I've been taught. I thought you were going to be different, that --"
"I am different." She pointed to the seat in front of her. "Sit down."
"I --"
"Sit down," she repeated with more force.
Obediently, he sat. "Well?"
"You aren't listening to me. I am not going to use you. I am not going to channel energy through you. I am not going to harm another for the sake of power."
Unconvinced, he glowered at her. "The
n what are you going to do?"
"I'm going to teach you to channel your own pain, and to do that, you are going to have to face your past."
He was not sure how to react, so he laughed, trying to dispel his nerves. "How do you plan to do that? I don't even remember half of what happened."
"You do remember, Cree. You remember in your dreams, and the memories themselves are just out of reach, waiting for you to tap them. Your own fear has hidden them from you."
"And so what I do I do? Stare at one and bash it with a stick."
She ignored his attempted joke. "There is strength in pain, and there is power. When faced with those memories, or should you ever be forced into Sarana's circle again, welcome the pain. Let its power soothe you, reach within and find your center. When you have done that, and the fear and anger still gnaw at your belly, channel them and use their power."
He laughed. "Welcome the pain?" He stood and began pacing again. "You don't understand. The pain is all there is. There is no way to reach beyond it."
"That's not true." Cali patted the table. "Sit down."
He stopped and inched closer to his stool, eying her suspiciously. "What are you going to do?"
"Just sit down. I'm going to prove what I just said."
He sat, though his body was tensed to spring away. "What are you going to do?" he repeated. The gleam in Cali's eyes sent shivers down his spine.
"Close your eyes and relax."
He hesitated, but finally closed his eyes, let his breathing slow, and forced his mind through the relaxing technique she had taught him. His awareness fell inward, and he willed his muscles to release their tension.
"Good." Cali's voice was far away.
He sank deeper inside himself, a little more and he would be asleep. He pushed the thought of sleep away, and let himself drift in the mindless emptiness. Sleep was not what he wanted; with sleep would come dreams. He did not want dreams.
"But that is exactly what you need," Cali's voice said. She seemed so far removed from his world.
"What do I need?" His own voice felt hollow.
"The dreams," Cali whispered.
With a lurch, the emptiness before him vanished, replaced with an all too familiar room. He scrambled, trying to escape the scene before him, but his wrists were bound. His bare knees pressed into the stone of the floor. He screamed, but the sound was silenced at the crack of a whip. A whimper escaped his throat, and the whip cracked again, this time across his bare back.
"Silence!"
He obeyed, not wanting to feel the sting of the whip again. He closed his eyes to block out the vision before him. The chant had started, and soon the lines of power beneath him would come to life. His skin prickled and fire raced along his body, sending tiny pulses of pain through his arms and legs. His heart beat faster. A rough hand tore down the weak walls around his mind, and the world went white with pain. He doubled over as far as his bonds would allow, gasping, while his head pounded in rhythm with the chant. The words grew in volume and . . .
"Enough." Cali's voice said.
The room, the bonds, and the pain fell away. His cheek rested against the cool surface of Cali's table. "Why?" he said weakly. "Why make me remember?" He sat up slowly.
Cali's lips stretched to a thin line. "Because you have to learn to face the memories. You have to learn not to be trapped by them."
He shook his head, blinking away tears. "Please, not again."
She nodded, her eyes wide and filled with sympathy. "Yes, again. And again. There is power there, power you can use. When you can reach within and dispel the memory, only then will I stop."
"That will take forever."
"No, not forever. And probably not as long as you think. Now, we'll try again. And this time remember to use the pain as a focus, and reach beyond it to your center." She smiled. "Are you ready?"
He nodded and closed his eyes again. Then he fell, faster this time, to the memory. Again, he heard the chant. Again, he felt the bonds on his wrist. Again, the whip cracked. And the pain came. White-hot, blinding, it consumed his world. He screamed.
"Focus it, Cree," Cali whispered from somewhere beyond the pain. "Look for your center."
He flailed blindly, lost in agony. "I can't," he whispered back. He could hear the chant more clearly, could feel the bonds securing him to the floor.
"You can. Let yourself fall. Stop fighting. It has to consume you."
He lost himself then, the pain filled his mind, pushed his consciousness away. His head still ached, but distantly now, as though it belonged to another person.
"That's it," came the whisper. "Now find your center. The pain, the memory, the sounds, they will fall away." The voice guided him away from the chant, away from the pain, and he fell inward.
He would rather have drifted there beyond the reaches of the pain, but the voice prodded him to action. He reached within, looking for his center. He saw it, glowing brightly just before him. He held out a tentative hand and touched it. The pain, the chant, all dissolved, and he found himself staring instead at Cali's smiling face. "How?"
Her eyes beamed with pride. "You stopped it, Cree. I helped you, but you did stop it. Now we try again."
He groaned. "For how long?"
"Until you can do it without my help. Until the memories themselves no longer trap you with fear and pain."
He swallowed hard as he realized the enormity of the task. "But it's only one memory."
"One step, then. We have plenty of time for the rest, and by the time you remember everything, you'll be able to dismiss them as memories, and only memories. Now, again."
"What if --"
"In time, Cree, they'll be memories, and only memories. They won't have a life of their own." She shrugged and gave him another smile. "Will that be tomorrow? Probably not, but a year from now, five years. Who can say? Now, again."
He groaned and closed his eyes once more.
~*~
He returned to his room exhausted, physically and emotionally. He collapsed on the bed, buried his head in his pillows and tried to ease the ache out of his skull. Cali had warned him to eat something, but he was simply too tired to make the effort. He wanted to sleep, and he closed his eyes, intending to do just that. Someone knocked on the door, and he groaned, wedging himself deeper into the pillows, but the knocking persisted.
"I'm coming," he muttered into the pillows. He rolled from the bed and padded to the door. He reached for the knob, but it turned under his hand. The door swung open, and he smiled.
"I thought you'd be hungry," Mirayla said, holding out a tray of still steaming food.
He took the tray and stepped aside to let her enter. "I'm not really hungry, but I'm glad you came."
Her expression grew worried. "Are you ill? Did Cali --"
"Just tired." He wanted nothing more than to avoid the questions he saw already forming on her lips. He sat the tray on the desk and went back to the bed.
She sat down next to him and laid her head against his shoulder. "You should eat, even if you aren't hungry."
He draped an arm over her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "I'm fine."
"So you say, but your muscles are tense and there's lines of worry on your face. You aren't fine."
He pulled away from her and scowled. "I don't want to talk."
"But, Cree, you can't bottle everything--"
He was silent. The memories Cali had brought to the surface were still fresh, and the remembered pain seemed real once more. "I don't want to talk. Why can't you just drop it?" He wanted to lash out at someone, something, and make them hurt as much as he did.
"But--" Mirayla stood and wiped her eyes. "I should go."
Cree hardly heard her. He lay down and stared into space, forgetting she was even in the room.
Mirayla turned towards him one last time. "What's wrong, Cree?" She sat beside him, took his hand and flinched when he jerked it away.
"Go away."
"You're hurting. I only want t
o help."
"You can't help me. Please, just go away."
Sighing, she went to the door. "If you need--"
"Just go."
She stood, one hand poised on the knob, and looked back. "Good night, Cree." She opened the door, started through, but a strangled sob drew her attention back to the bed. Without hesitating, she moved back to the bed and curled up next to Cree. She took him in her arms, making soothing noises. And when he stopped weeping, she stayed by his side and held him close.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
"There's nothing to be sorry for." She shifted so that she could lay her head on his shoulder.
"I think there is." He wrapped an arm around her, and they lay still for a long moment, taking comfort from each other, not needing words.
~*~
Cree clutched Mirayla's hand a little tighter and swallowed his trepidation at the sight of the infirmary door. She embraced him and whispered, "I'm here." He opened the door and froze.
"You're his teacher!" Clanda's voice was tinged with anger.
She sucked in a long breath. "That's Mama." Mirayla pulled Cree towards Cali's workroom.
"Maybe we shouldn't --"
"They're talking about you, you're the only student Cali has right now." She tugged on his arm. "Come on. We might as well find out."
"Clanda, he's not ready for that kind of confrontation."
"Then you might as well --"
Cree cleared his throat. "What sort of confrontation?"
Clanda turned cool eyes towards him. "The council meeting."
He shrugged. "I know about the council meeting. I only have to be present. I don't have to speak." Cali looked down at the floor, and Clanda raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"
Mirayla squeezed his hand. "Mama, you said --"
"I said he could stay silent, yes, I did." She locked Cree's gaze. "Unfortunately, I suspect only Cree's voice will sway the council's decision. They were not at all pleased that I offered you sanctuary. And, at the moment, the majority opinion is just to send you back, especially if Ka-shal Tiroth will pull out of Lishal Tor."
Cree clutched the doorframe to keep himself erect as his legs started trembling. "Please." He closed his eyes. "Don't send me back there."
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