CHAPTER TWENTY
Marcus’ sword comes at me and I sway aside, swinging my net to wrap around his arm. He isn’t fast enough to pull back, but he does send a jolt of lightning running through it, so that I must let go or find myself stunned.
I’m expecting that move, though, so I’m already releasing the net.
It’s enough that it tangled him for a second, and that has left an opening in which I can thrust with my trident.
Marcus doesn’t look upset that I’ve bested him once again in one of our training bouts.
He looks pleased, if anything, maybe sensing that this improvement in my skills is the only thing standing between me and death in the arena.
“Good,” he says. “Now the logs.”
There are heavy logs set out in the garden of his villa, arranged at intervals so that I must run between them before I lift them and flip them.
I’m sweating as I do it, the sun beating down on my skin.
I don’t slack off for a moment, though, because I only have days now before the Grand Tournament is due to begin.
I need to sharpen my skills and build my strength as much as possible before then.
So I sprint between the posts, not slowing even for a second. I imagine blasts of magic coming my way, and how fast I’ll have to move when an opponent is targeting me with ranged attacks. I won’t be able to hesitate then if I want to survive.
“Good,” Marcus says as I finish. He has a scroll beside him. “I found out more about a couple of the gladiators who’ve come in from outside Aetheria. One is named Lorelei. She’s from Arboria and has power over plants.”
“How will that help her in a fight?” I ask him.
“If there are any in the colosseum, it could be decisive,” Marcus says. “My understanding is that her specialty, though, is throwing down seeds that then turn into tangling briars.”
It’s a trick that could slow down an opponent, or even completely incapacitate them.
“What about the other one?” I ask.
“Jor, from the mountain lands far to the north,” Marcus says. “He claims to channel the spirits of dead former warriors through his flesh, finding someone with the skills to fight any given enemy.”
Both of them sound like potentially dangerous foes, and I start to think through the strategies I’ll need to defeat them.
Neither seems to have magical ranged attacks, but I’ll need to be ready to leap clear of any briars if they start to grow beneath my feet.
In both cases, the best strategy will be to close the distance quickly, trying to draw them into a more normal fight.
Alaric approaches the training area now, and for once, he isn’t alone. He has a white bearded old man with him who looks around nervously, as if afraid to be in Marcus’ home.
“Marcus, Lyra, this is Calpern. I think he may be the answer to at least one of our problems.”
“I never thought you’d be bringing me somewhere so grand,” the old man says. “I try to keep out of the affairs of nobles, Alaric.”
Marcus snorts. “He’s more of a noble than either of us. I’m just of merchant stock, and Lyra…”
“I know who she is,” Calpern says, “and who you are, Senator.”
“And you know how important this is,” Alaric insists. “It might be the difference between life and death for Lyra in the games.”
The old man nods, then gestures for me to sit. “Let me get a better look at your arm, young lady.”
I do as he bids me, sitting on a stool by the training area and holding out my left arm. Calpern takes it, examining the dampener there carefully.
“Calpern used to work at Ironhold,” Alaric explains as he does it. “One of his tasks was to fit dampeners to those gladiators too unruly to be allowed their full powers. He was also in charge of adjusting them to allow them more or less power, depending on how they behaved.”
A note of hope starts to sing through me. Has Alaric truly found someone who might be able to give me back some of my magic?
“Can you do it?” I ask him. “Can you change the dampener?”
Calpern looks me in the eye. “Are you going to help the resistance? Are you going to stop what’s happening to our city?”
I nod. “I’m going to do everything I can.”
“Then I’ll do what I can to help,” he says. He starts to trace one arthritic finger over the lines and sigils on the dampener, which seem to glow in response to his touch. “Are you sure you don’t want me to just remove this, Alaric? I’m confident I could.”
Alaric shakes his head, though. “Everyone expects to see Lyra wearing a dampener, and there are those who’ll be able to feel if it’s just some empty vessel with no power.”
Calpern nods. “Then the trick is going to be doing it without making it obvious to anyone watching you that you still have magic. It’s harder, but I can do it.”
Calpern continues to trace the sigils on my arm, and now they start to shift in response to his touch. I can see the look of concentration on the old man’s face as he works, the effort this must take him.
“Hold still,” he says. “I must be precise with this. One wrong move and the magic might backfire.”
“And then?” I ask.
“The dampener is connected to your magic,” Calpern says. “It might let it all out at once, in an explosion that kills us, or it might do the opposite. It might drag all the magic out of you, leaving nothing behind but a husk.”
That’s a terrifying thought, either way.
I resolve to sit perfectly still while Calpern works, the lines on the dampener still glowing and shifting beneath his touch.
I barely dare to breathe as he traces the symbols, shifting them by less than the width of a finger each time.
His eyes momentarily flicker with power, and then there’s stillness.
“There,” Calpern says. “It’s done.”
“I don’t feel any different,” I say, standing.
Alaric frowns. “Haven’t you done it right, Calpern?”
“Was I ever this impatient when I was young?” the older man asks. “Just give it a moment. Connect to your magic. See what you can feel.”
I do as he asks, reaching down inside myself for my magic. When I’ve done that in the last few weeks, there has been nothing waiting for me, the sense that there’s some kind of heavy veil between me and my power I can’t breach. Now, though, the magic comes rushing up to meet me.
It’s like taking my first breath of fresh air after weeks being locked away.
It’s like seeing sunlight again for the first time, or feeling the touch of a lover after being starved of contact for too long.
It’s like all of those things, and none of them, because my magic is a part of me, not something that comes to me from outside.
I reach out with my magic, trying to sense the creatures around me.
For the first time in a long time, I can feel the birds in the trees and the squirrel hiding among some of the bushes.
I can’t feel far, can’t sense animals reaching all the way past the walls of the city the way I once could, but even being able to feel this much is enough to make me gasp with joy and crush the old man in a hug.
“Thank you,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Just don’t try for too much,” Calpern says. “I can’t guess what the limits are for you now, but there will still be limits.”
“Then let’s find out what those are,” Alaric says. He tosses me a training sword, taking up another for himself.
I call to the birds, hoping to bring them in to attack him.
They don’t respond, but maybe that’s a good thing.
It would be far too obvious that I’m using magic if I do something like that.
I can still feel their presence, and now I’m able to look through their eyes the way I’m used to, seeing myself from multiple angles as Alaric attacks me with both a training sword and bursts of illusion magic.
I manage to borrow a little of the birds’ grace, adding it to the speed and strength I’ve built up through hard training in Marcus’ villa.
I weave aside from Alaric’s attacks, striking back at him with such ferocity that he’s quickly forced to give ground.
He tries throwing illusory darts of power at me, but now I can read them better, thanks to the birds and I dodge everyone.
Alaric lunges forward, trying to catch me off guard, but I’m ready for it. I throw myself forward in the same moment, rolling beneath him even as he slashes at the spot where I just was. I thrust my sword up as he stands there, catching him in the stomach with the tip of my wooden blade.
Alaric steps back, looking pleased. “Now, you’re ready.”
I feel ready, at last. My training has given me strategies and skills, but the return of a portion of my magic has given me a way to access greater strength and speed, to fight the way a beast whisperer was always meant to fight.
With this, I might truly be able to take on the strongest magic users Selene has been able to gather for the games.
“I am,” I agree, standing smoothly and relinquishing the power I borrowed from the birds.
I can still feel their presence, along with that of every small creature in Marcus’ garden.
A part of me wants to connect with each one in turn, seeing the world through a different set of eyes each time, simply because I can.
Marcus looks me over. “If you truly are prepared, then there’s only one thing left for us to do.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s time for us to announce your participation in the Grand Tournament to the citizens of Aetheria.”