Voice of Life (The Spoken Mage Book 4)

by Melanie Cellier

  “I did that myself,” he announced proudly.

  “You baked a cake? Yourself?” asked Saffron.

  “Well, no, not the cake. Just the word.”

  Coralie laughed. “That doesn’t count.”

  “Yes, it does,” he protested. “It counts for something. It was quite tricky working out how to channel the power that one word of icing released.”

  “You sound ridiculous,” I said. “You know that right? But honestly, I don’t care who made it. The important thing is whether I get to eat some of it with you.”

  “Of course you do!” Coralie assured me. “You were the one to bring us the instructions, remember. And we strategized in your suite. That makes you one of us.”

  “You probably shouldn’t have done that,” said Lucas, his eyes laughing at me, although his face remained serious. “It wasn’t exactly a neutral position for an adjudicator.”

  “Funny,” I whispered to him as Saffron reached toward the cake with a knife. “I didn’t hear you protesting my involvement yesterday evening.”

  “We all have our weaknesses.” His eyes lingered on me.

  I flushed and focused on Saffron who had hesitated, the tip of the knife hovering over the cake.

  “What exactly did you do with that power?” she asked Finnian, a laugh in her voice. “Is the cake a giant composition? For victory? If I cut it will we win the war?”

  Coralie laughed and told her to hurry up and cut us some slices, but I had to fight not to lock eyes with Lucas again at the mention of ending the war.

  I found it hard to resist him when we stood so close—the reason I had agreed not to bring up Cassius after the bout. But we needed a chance to talk properly. Because with each week that passed, I became more and more certain that our only hope of ending the war lay with Prince Cassius and his band of dissenters.

  Assuming, of course, they actually existed.

  Chapter 5

  Many nights I lay in bed, going over and over my conversation with Cassius in my mind. The fervent light in his eyes had made me believe he would depose his own father for the good of his kingdom. And surely his people must be as sick of this war as ours were.

  He had said I could help him end the war. If I could somehow sneak into Kallorway, if I could get to him before his father’s people found me…

  And yet…I could still see that rock in his hand flashing toward me. How many Ardannians had he killed to get to me? Had he intended to kill me, too? The question all too often kept me awake into the night.

  I had hoped that if I could expose the traitors, I could end the war without ever leaving Ardann, but no new clue had emerged. And after more than two years, I had to admit that proving the Stantorn treachery was beyond my capacity unless something new occurred to provide fresh evidence.

  I knew the alternative Lucas preferred. He had quietly arranged for intelligencers to look for evidence that Cassius might be ready to betray his father. So far, they had found nothing. But could that just mean the Kallorwegian prince was as effective at subterfuge as we needed him to be for any coup to work?

  I knew Lucas wanted me to explore my new ability instead of thinking of Cassius. He had offered himself as my test subject, but how could I agree to such a thing? Even if it were practically possible.

  I kept reliving the feel of Saffron’s energy rushing into me, buoying me up as it drained her dry. The sight of her gray face haunted me. Surely such a thing was wrong.

  But if it could save lives? If I could be more careful, not take too much energy? Surely I owed it the soldiers sacrificing their lives—both willingly and unwillingly—to try?

  I needed someone to talk to about it. Someone with more wisdom and knowledge than me or my friends could possess.

  General Griffith might be legally my father now, but I never even considered confiding in him. And I didn’t trust Lorcan with the knowledge either. His desire to understand and find a way to use my unique power had always been too great. Which only left one option.

  A week later, I had made up my mind. I suspected Lucas would disapprove of my telling anyone at all, but we rarely had the opportunity to speak in private, so I couldn’t wait for his advice.

  Winter had gripped the kingdom, and with it a spate of illness at the Academy. Saffron asked me to hand in her grower essay on the advantages and disadvantages of increasing the natural growth speed of plants at our next growing lesson. Acacia had ordered her to spend the day in bed resting after receiving a healing for her early flu symptoms. I hoped Saffron’s absence would give me an opportunity to speak to Walden alone.

  But when I arrived at the front library desk, Jocasta was the one collecting assignments. I handed Saffron’s over reluctantly, trying to spot Walden among the shelves.

  For a moment Jocasta didn’t reach to take the parchment I offered, staring at it and then me in shock. In my distraction, it took a moment to understand her concern.

  “Oh, this is Saffron’s essay,” I said. “I’ll be ready to give my spoken presentation this evening as usual.”

  Jocasta relaxed and finally took the paper, adding it to the stack of parchments in front of her.

  “I’m glad to see you expanding your horizons,” she said. “Growing is a practical skill. My mother used to be a grower, and she still maintains a huge garden around our home down south.”

  She looked back at me. “We don’t live in a big city, and there are always locals happy to work for my family in exchange for a year round supply of food from her gardens.” Nothing in her face or voice suggested she was in the least ashamed of this indication that her family was less wealthy than most mage families, needing to barter goods to afford servants.

  “There are plenty of people in Kingslee who would take that opportunity if we had any mage families in residence,” I said.

  “Aye, and there are many more who would starve if the growers didn’t keep the kingdom’s crops healthy and plentiful.”

  I shifted my weight to the other foot. “It’s a noble profession.”

  “There are many injustices in the world,” she said. “But we all play our part.”

  “Indeed,” I said, giving her a tight smile.

  She smiled at me wryly in return, seeming to find my discomfiture amusing. She had always found me wanting, but I had to give her credit that she had never seemed to envy the richer, more powerful mages who surrounded her at the Academy.

  “Walden and the rest of the grower studies class are in the gardens today,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

  I nodded my thanks and hurried out of the library and around the back of the building. Hopefully I would have a chance to have a quiet word with Walden, after all.

  The small group of trainees huddled around something in one of the furthest garden plots. Walden looked up as I approached.

  “Ah, Elena, there you are.” He looked past me. “No Saffron today?”

  I shook my head. “Acacia’s ordered her to rest.”

  “Too bad,” he said. “She’ll miss the flowering.”

  He gestured for me to join the small circle. They were gathered around a couple of small plants, each with heart-shaped, deep green leaves and three tall stems. Round knobs of tightly furled petals topped each stem. I recognized the plant from a drawing in one of the books Jocasta had recommended the week before.

  “Oh!” I said. “I didn’t realize we had any snow blossoms at the Academy.”

  Walden winked at me. “We didn’t. These are my own recent additions. As you all should know, snow blossoms only bloom in the winter, and each flower only lasts for a single day. I have encouraged these particular blooms to flower on time for our class. So, any moment now…”

  I leaned forward with the other trainees, watching for any change in the petals.

  “There!” one of the second years cried. “That one is moving.”

  Sure enough, the petals on the three flowers of the left-hand plant had begun to loosen. We all watched with bated breath as they
unfurled. Layer after layer of fragile white was revealed, their bases stained with a splash of startling red.

  The flower hadn’t fully opened before the other plant also began to unfurl. We all watched it transfixed. I felt eyes on me and looked up into Walden’s smile.

  “Spectacular, isn’t it? A rare and startling bloom for a number of reasons. Which is why I chose it for our demonstration today.” His eyes ran over the group. “Can anyone pick any difference between the plants? Any difference in the flowers?”

  I looked back down at them but could discern no difference of any kind. The two looked remarkably identical. The other trainees all slowly shook their heads.

  Walden chuckled. “No need for such hesitance. I designed them to be identical, so I would hope you couldn’t. But we will return shortly for further observation.”

  He gestured for us to follow him as he led us on a short tour of that section of the garden, pointing out various plants and discussing the work that had gone into them by the Academy gardeners and previous students. As the lesson neared a close, he led us back toward the snow blossoms.

  “So,” he said as we circled the two plants, “can you tell a difference between them now?”

  No one responded since it was clearly a rhetorical question. The plant on the left had already visibly wilted. Two of the blooms had fallen off to lie on the cold, hard ground, and the stems looked brown and dead.

  “I thought snow blossoms were perennials?” I asked. “It shouldn’t have died after the first blossoming, should it?”

  “Pull it up for me,” Walden said in reply.

  I knelt and grasped the base of the plant, pulling firmly. My hand shot into the air as the greenery and remaining dead flower pulled effortlessly free. I rocked back onto my heels and looked at the plant in my hand.

  “It doesn’t have any roots,” said one of the younger trainees.

  He was mostly right. A couple of thin tendrils trailed below the main part of the plant, the only thing that had been anchoring it to the soil.

  Walden nodded. “I planted the seeds for that plant only last night. Its rapid growth is due entirely to my power. If the snow blossom had grown naturally, it would certainly have lasted to bloom again many times. I believe most of you have studied healing before. You are hopefully beginning to understand that in some ways plants are not so very different from the human body. Unless we wish to sustain it indefinitely with our power, a plant must have time and fuel to grow properly. We can stimulate its growth, and protect it from pests and weather, but if we push it to grow too fast, it will not result in a strong and robust plant. Crops grown this way are deficient in nutrients, and the plants will quickly wither and die, as you have seen.”

  “A mage might grow such a flower to decorate a ballroom,” an older trainee pointed out.

  “Indeed, such displays have their uses,” Walden said, “and I hope the essays you have all just submitted will have explored those in full. But there is nothing like a practical demonstration to bring home the disadvantages.”

  He knelt beside the second plant and pulled it firmly from the ground. It resisted its removal, clinging to the soil until a final tug released it. He held it up for the trainees to see.

  “Grown in three weeks, this plant has a much healthier root system. My power pushed it to grow faster than is natural, so it was weaker than a natural bloom, more susceptible to weather and blight. But, if it managed to survive, over time, it could have become as strong as a regular flower. A grower must judge that fine line between enough power to help a plant, but not so much as to fatally injure it. And that balance will change from plant to plant and in different situations. The more you learn about each type of growth and its natural characteristics, the easier it will become to correctly judge each situation.”

  Several of the trainees leaned forward to better examine the second plant, but I hung back. Walden dismissed us, and the others moved away, talking quietly as they made their way back toward the dining hall.

  “It seems like a waste,” I said to Walden as he gathered the two plants for the compost heap.

  He gave me a questioning look.

  “It would have continued to grow and bloom.” I gestured at the plant that still held three beautiful flowers.

  Walden looked down at it and then back at me. “It has served its purpose well enough.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” I sighed.

  When I continued to linger, he raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Is there something on your mind?”

  I glanced around, but the others had moved out of earshot and no one stood near us.

  “Yes. I want to talk to you about something. I’m hoping you can help me answer a question.”

  “Oh?”

  I didn’t say anything, and he caught on quickly.

  “Perhaps somewhere more private?” He glanced up at the Academy building. “It is nearly time for the evening meal. I generally take it in my office. Perhaps you would like to join me there once you have eaten yourself?”

  I nodded, and we walked together back toward the Academy entrance. In the entrance, he waved me off in the direction of the dining hall.

  “Now you’ve raised my curiosity,” he told me with a chuckle, “don’t go forgetting to appear.”

  I assured him that I would be there as soon as possible and hurried toward the food.

  “You can strip others of energy? As much as you like? From anyone?” Walden stared at me. “Has the power no limits?”

  I shifted in my seats. “I…I don’t really know, to be honest.”

  His voice dropped. “Could you…drain someone completely?”

  “I think—” I paused, not wanting to say it out loud. “I think so. Obviously I haven’t tried it,” I hurried to add.

  “No, no indeed. Of course not.” He sat back in his chair, his fingers steepled, and his eyes glazed over as he stared at a spot on the wall beside me.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my chair but waited for him to speak. Walden had been the one to help me as I learned to access my power in first year. He had seen more of my unique ability than most, but I had never seen him shocked like this.

  Slowly his face transformed, a fervent light filling his eyes. He dropped his hands and leaned forward.

  “Elena! My dear girl! This is remarkable. Beyond remarkable! Unlimited energy. This is what mages have been searching for since the beginning of power itself.”

  “But is it right to use it?” I asked. “When it comes from other people?”

  “Ah.” He leaned back again, his excitement shuttered. “A worthy question indeed. One that requires consideration.”

  “Yes.” Now I was the one leaning forward. “Lucas and Araminta both told me to take it from them, but Saffron did not. I took it without her agreement or even knowledge. Though she must have felt it. And she, at least, would have known what was happening. I took it from her on instinct, to save myself, and that scares me. What if I had taken too much?”

  “Hmmm…” Walden surveyed me with a wrinkled brow. “But you did not, did you? And if I understood your earlier description correctly, you did it not just to save yourself, but to save both of you. It was merely using your combined resources where they would be most effective.”

  “Do you really think so? I’ve been afraid that I’m only telling myself that to excuse it away.”

  “Motivations are always important,” he said. “And yours seem to have been pure in this instance.”

  He saw my look of uncertainty and continued. “Of course, motivation is not everything. Execution is important as well. And to my mind that is the reason why you must practice with this new gift. You must learn to understand and properly utilize it. If you reach for it only by instinct, when in desperation, you are far more likely to end up making a misstep. Whereas, if you set limits for yourself, rules, so to speak, then you will know when and how to restrain yourself.”

  I thought about his words. “You mean I’ll know how much
I can take without harming the other person?”

  “Exactly.” He beamed at me. “And the more you practice, the more you will be able to limit yourself without thought.”

  “That makes sense,” I said slowly. The pressure across my chest eased. “And if I had known what I was doing, instead of draining too much from Saffron, I could have skimmed only the smallest amount of energy from everyone present, so that no one person bore the full burden.”

  Walden’s eyes widened, a strange look on his face. “You could do such a thing?”

  “I think so?” I shrugged. “But that’s what you’re saying, isn’t it? I need to train, to understand my limits.” I gave a wry smile. “Really, I should have taken the energy from our attackers. I could have achieved two purposes at once. But in my panic, I latched onto the familiar energy of my friend.”

  “Familiar energy?” Walden asked.

  “I might have forgotten to mention that bit,” I said. “I can sense everyone now. Sense their energy. And I spend so much time with my friends that they’ve started to feel familiar.” I grimaced. “It’s hard to explain.”

  “Utterly fascinating.” Walden shook his head slowly. “The wonders of your power only increase. But that should be of great assistance to you. You will be able to sense whether you are drawing too much energy.”

  “I think so.” I frowned. “Although if I intend to take only a little energy, it might be difficult to sense. It’s not the most granular thing.”

  Walden rubbed his hands together. “But that’s the purpose of experimentation! What fun would it be if you already had all the answers?” His eyes twinkled at me, and I reluctantly smiled back.

  I could understand his enthusiasm. He had always loved the pursuit of knowledge. But he didn’t understand the sickening feeling of knowing you had drained a friend’s life force to protect yourself. I couldn’t deny the truth of what he said, though. If I had this power—and I could not remove it now—I would be safer if I understood it. I’d already demonstrated that I was in danger of using it regardless of any good intentions.