Destiny's Gem

by J. Cain McKrell

  ***

  Once evening arrived she realized Master Bernard was right to end their lesson when he did. Her neck and shoulders ached, and temples throbbed with pressure. She would have loved nothing more than to curl up and sleep, except the growl of her stomach was far too incessant to ignore. The nearest kitchen was a quarter mile away, normally not enough to dissuade her. After arguing with herself for long enough that she could have already been either eating or sleeping, she made a decision. Hunger won out.

  Dragging her feet, she made the long walk to see what food might be still be available. She hoped there was chicken or quail tonight, something more substantial than vegetables and grains. There were few people up and about, not that anyone usually paid her mind. Often she would get a handful of stares; the keep had a lack of children, making them all hold a small degree of novelty. She missed dinner with Uncle Yuley and Momma Lorna, even missed being outside with other people her own age.

  Even though she preferred being by herself when there were other children, now that there were almost none she felt lonely. It was a thought she grappled with often, always coming to the conclusion that she was better off alone. Eventually they’d give her a reason not to like them, they always did.

  You don’t need anyone else. You’re stronger without them. She agreed with the sentiment.

  Venison was still being served for another hour, and though it wasn’t her favorite she ate without complaint – two platefulls worth. While she ate she thought about her lesson for the day, still content from the earlier exhilaration of what she accomplished. She couldn’t wait to try again. If she wasn’t so tired… well, she wasn’t allowed to try anything further. Master Bernard told her not to.

  A gentle nudge on her shoulder woke her up, and she was confused for several moments until realizing she had fallen asleep at the dinner table.

  “Where’s your room, sweetheart?” One of the maids asked her. “I’ll walk her home.”

  She vaguely heard a few giggles from the other women finishing up, remarking on old men who were drinking too much being the ones to usually fall asleep at their plate. She didn’t really get what was funny about it.

  Once back in her room she promptly fell asleep, almost as soon as her head reached the pillow. Albert was there to meet her again – the old man she had seen dead in the infirmary. She dreamt about him almost every night, most of the time waking her in a cold sweat. This night, she was so tired his rotten face and cruel words hardly registered. In the morning she awoke with Master Bernard at her door, watching her closely.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, did I oversleep?” she asked, scrambling to gather her books.

  “No, relax,” he said, “I was only checking in on you.”

  Confused, she stopped what she was doing.

  “You were sleepwalking last night,” he explained, “a scholar found you late in the night as he was leaving the library.”

  “I don’t remember that,” she said skeptically. It felt like she had a decent night’s sleep. “Maybe it was someone else?”

  “I ended up coming to get you myself,” he answered.

  She didn’t respond; there wasn’t anything to say if she didn’t remember it.

  “Nothing to be alarmed about,” Bernard assured her, seeing how worried she looked. “Sleepwalking isn’t uncommon and you seem well enough now. Meet me in an hour for your lesson.”

  After straightening up her room and grabbing a coat she went to the same courtyard as yesterday, making sure to get there earlier than Master Bernard this time. The extra minutes let her warm up and prepare; she felt a lot better today than she did for her previous lesson. Her concentration was razor sharp, and her stomach wasn’t upset to distract her. She began with a few simple mental exercises to clear her thoughts and worries – breathing in slowly, and letting it out.

  “Good, I see you’re not wasting any time this morning,” Master Bernard remarked. “Do you think you remember how to repeat what we did yesterday?”

  “Yes, Master Bernard,” she answered.

  Within a few moments she began to form a small ball of heat slightly above her hand. It came to her much easier than yesterday; each fine movement of her fingers and thoughts coming with deft precision.

  “Impressive,” she heard Bernard say, almost skeptically. She felt the power running through her suddenly cut off, like a fountain denied its water. “But didn’t I instruct you to not practice last night?”

  “No…” she stammered, “I promise. All I did was have something to eat and go to sleep.” She didn’t want to be punished, much less for not actually breaking any of Master Bernard’s rules.

  Master Bernard let out a breath, “Go again.”

  Slightly distracted, it took her longer this time to clear her head and concentrate. Within a short time though, she again had another glowing orb above her hand. Her excitement at succeeding nearly broke the spell, but she held onto it.

  “Hotter,” Bernard demanded.

  With greater effort she continued to pull in fragments of energy from all of the sources around her – the grass along the courtyard, bushes and trees along their perimeter, a bird that happened to fly by at that moment, even herself and Master Bernard. The orb grew hotter and hotter until it turned from red to orange. Each second that passed more energy was fed into it; the hotter it grew the more energy it needed to sustain itself, and exponentially heavier the sphere became. The bird fell from the sky, bushes shriveled, and the grass died under her feet.

  You’re not being efficient, she heard. Pay attention! She realized it was true; strands of energy were branching away and dissipating before she could use them, and the layering on her orb could have been more organized and controlled.

  It bounced and shredded apart, resulting in a small but potent flash of light in front of her. Master Bernard calmly held his arm up over his eyes, while she was knocked flat onto her bottom. It took nearly a minute for the bright white flash to fade from her vision.

  “Not bad,” he said, surveying the localized devastation. The bird shook out its head and body before woozily taking to the air again. “A little sloppy on the technique and control, my fault perhaps for pushing you. Nonetheless, very good for one of your first attempts.”

  “I can do it better,” she insisted. Next time she’d be more discerning with her placements and how much she drew from any source. She pushed herself to her feet and began to try again.

  A slight motion of Master Bernard’s hand and she found she could not call upon the spirits, her head felt cloudy.

  “That’s enough for today,” he said, “you can try again tomorrow. Remember, meditation only - no crafting by yourself.”

  She didn’t have the energy to argue. Her head throbbed, and every muscle in her body felt like it was on fire. Master Bernard gave her another reading assignment, and kitchen duty for the evening before dismissing her.

  “Can’t have you dithering the day away just because you can’t do any more of this,” he said. “Everyone pitches in.”

  Disappointed, she returned to her bedroom after a short lesson. She didn’t understand how she tired so quickly, after having such high expectations of herself this morning. It wasn’t fair; her little body was too delicate to do what her mind could. If she were older and stronger she’d be able to handle so much more. It was infuriating, and despite her exhaustion she could feel her face reddening and heart pounding in her chest.

  She picked up her pillow and buried it against her head, letting out a high-pitch shriek. Her fit just beginning, she flung herself down on the bed and sobbed. When the tantrum finally ran its course, she felt herself begin to nod off. Before falling asleep she felt a deep sense of shame and disgust, but not her own. It was as if she had the tantrum right in front of Master Bernard and could feel his disapproval, but he couldn’t see her right now. At least, she was fairly sure he couldn’t.

  Hours later she awoke, sometime in
the middle of the afternoon. A cold draft came through her window, so she took one of her extra sheets and jammed it into the cracks as best she could. It didn’t help much. The trees were bare outside; she hated this time of year. Everything looked dead, or at least dying. Her stomach felt slightly sour again, more from nerves than being sick. An odd feeling of shame still overwhelmed her; she had always been hard on herself but this felt different. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched and judged harshly.

  There was still some water in her pitcher from this morning. She scooped a bit of it in her hand and ran it over her face, then drank a little more. With a few hours before the kitchens, she opened one of her books for study. More history, probably her least favorite area, though Master Bernard continually tried to emphasize how important it was.

  Her mind wandered as she read the various names and places, and the names of the lands they were called prior to what they are now, and prior to that. After a while it all blended into one repetitive string of words, each with less meaning than the next. Once she realized she was hardly paying attention, she read the same line over a few times to make sure she understood it.

  The Luskites were once again driven northwards by the Vermillion Empire, leading to widespread famine. Her eyes began to glaze over. There exists unique signatures within each lifeform and its aurora, though on its smallest scale diverge into four fundamental types. The distinct combinations of each are what compose the organism. Each branch has its own distinctive qualities and applications.

  Sevra blinked. That sentence didn’t seem like it should follow what preceded. She read again. The Luskites were forced into exile, forming small settlements where they remained undetected for years...

  Frowning, she read the page again, and a third time. There wasn’t any text there referencing what she thought she saw previously. Flipping through the pages, she was unable to find it again. She wanted to keep looking, but it was time to go scrub pots. With a frustrated grunt she closed the book. After finally finding a passage she was interested in, she lost it and now it was time to go be a scullery maid for the rest of the night.

  It had been a while since she last had to perform kitchen duty, but she knew the routine. Rolling up her sleeves she let the chef know she arrived and headed into the back. He muttered something unintelligible, too busy to waste time talking to her, and pointed towards the direction she was already heading.

  The dirty pots and pans were stacked counter to ceiling. With numb resignation she started on the first pile, lathering up a brush with a chunk of soap and scrubbing away. She worked at a pace fast enough to not get yelled at, but not so fast that she would tire herself out. Washing dishes for the Magicus Celesti wasn’t a sprint; she learned that on her first time through. The pile of clean dinnerware was beginning to balance out with the dirty, though every now and then another stack came in from the dining hall to set her behind.

  Her thoughts wandered as she worked mechanically, occasionally straightening her back and knuckling her sides when they tightened up. She continued to replay the line she read earlier, the one that seemed to not exist when she tried to find it again. It sounded like an introduction to a practical theory, one that was probably very useful. Maybe Master Bernard began to explain it to her some time before and her thoughts drifted to it while reading the history text. She’d have to make sure to ask him about it.

  Another clean pile of dishes were returned to be set at tables, while more dirty ones were brought in. She wished her crafting lesson could have lasted longer, or at least practice on her own in the evening without drawing the ire of every magi on the premises. Maybe then she wouldn’t be stuck doing dishes for so many hours. Her hands began to dry and crack from the soap whenever she took them out of the water.

  Pace yourself.

  Yes, she did need to pace herself better. If only she wasn’t limited to spellwork under Master Bernard’s strict guidance, she’d be able to progress so much faster.

  There is a way.

  “No, I get in trouble if I try to reach the spirits without guidance,” she said absently while she scrubbed.

  I will teach you to walk among them.

  She stopped scrubbing. There was a brief moment of realization that there was something wrong. Her heart raced and palms began to sweat, stinging her irritated skin. People who were well did not hear voices.

  “I don’t…” she stammered.

  You will learn.

  The thoughts faded to a whisper and disappeared altogether. She was no longer certain if they were her own or not; her head felt like one large mass of confusion.

  “Hey! You’re falling behind get a move on in here!”

  Sevra jumped at the voice, no longer lost in thought. “Yes, I’m sorry.”

  She hurried to get a small batch cleaned up, ignoring the pain of her raw fingers and aching back, and unable to recall the conversation having took place in her head only moments before.