Chapter 27 Declan #3
“No, they are not soldiers, but one of the first lessons a Mage learns is how to take instruction. They simply need to be guided on how to redirect their magic to more helpful uses. Take Fergus.”
“Uncle Ferg? Seriously?” I barked a laugh. “He might slay a dinner roll, but he’d still struggle with the butter knife.”
Quin’s ageless skin crinkled. “You might be surprised. Did you ever ask him about his Gift?”
I thought a moment. “No. I don’t think we ever talked about magic. No one saw much use in talking to me about that, not once they thought I wouldn’t be getting magic of my own.”
“He can purify water or food. That has certainly come in handy over the years here in the guild, especially when the larders ran out of ice, or cooks forgot to put everything away. How do you think we might use that Gift in our current situation?”
“Well, the enemy will probably try to starve us out, so he can stave off that problem. With the rivers running through Saltstone, and the snow on the Silver Mountains, we should never run out of water. I can’t say the same for their side. There’s no fresh water anywhere outside our western wall.”
“Yes, all true. Think offensively. How could Fergus hurt the enemy?” Quin sat back.
I thought through my next few bites as Quin sat patiently.
“I don’t know. Everything Fergus does helps people. He cleanses. I don’t know how that could be used to actually harm someone.”
Quin leaned forward again. “Declan, any Gift can be inverted.”
“Inverted?”
“Yes, inverted. Stay with Fergus. He uses his Gift to cleanse and purify, but what is the opposite of those actions?”
“I guess to make something go bad or . . .” Understanding spread through me. “Arch Mage, the Phoenix would never—”
“The Phoenix would allow us to defend ourselves,” Quin said flatly.
“Imagine the havoc our innocent little Fergus could create if he had access to the enemy’s supplies, or their water source. Could that same ability weaken the properties of glues or leathers or wood? We are not sure about those last things, but that is how creatively we are thinking. Now,
apply that to every Gift you know. That is your Mages’ Guild turned martial.”
My head swam at the possibilities.
I chewed faster and downed the last of my wine.
“I knew I could draw air and water from most anything. That could be devastating. It is almost impossible to control, and I would likely end up killing our own people.”
I thought a moment. “If we could make their horses sick, or mentally disrupt their Mages, or make their generals hated instead of Charismatic, or flood their men with Empathetic power so the fear was overwhelming, or—”
Quin held up his hands in surrender and laughed. “Yes, all of that.”
“We might actually survive this thing.” I absently ran my hands through my long, dingy hair.
My mind raced with ideas, with possibilities.
Just as my spirits began to soar with thoughts of survival and victory, a warmth tickled my chest, and my tunic turned from shimmering gold to a dark, putrid color. The Phoenix dulled to near invisibility. I ran a hand over its fabric as Quin stared thoughtfully.
órla landed lightly on the table and spoke aloud for both men to hear. “Magic abhors being turned on itself. Declan, you are not simply bonded with me. You are magic. If you follow this path, I fear the price demanded may be more than you would wish to pay.”
My heart ached with guilt.
Using magic to harm another went against everything the Phoenix stood for. I tried to grasp lessons from my time on the island, to see my teacher, to hear . . . her voice? I was so close to seeing those days in my mind, yet they remained elusive memories lost to time.
Still, I knew what Quin proposed to be wrong. It sounded wrong as he spoke. It felt wrong as I saw it play out in my mind’s eye.
“Price? What do you mean?”
“You have felt the price magic exacts when a Gift is used normally. You become fatigued, mentally, physically, spiritually. The level of fatigue deepens with the strength and duration of magic used.”
I nodded. “I’ve certainly felt wrung out after a day of practice.”
“You recover quickly with rest and food.” She paused, and I nodded. “However, using inverted magic drains the user’s life force. You might kill your opponent, but you would also be killing yourself.”
My brows rose, and a hand fled back into my hair. I leaned back and looked at Quin. He didn’t look surprised by órla’s pronouncement.
“Is there any way to recover from that? Or to counter it, or strengthen a Mage?”
“There is none.” Quin shrugged. “A weak Mage might lose years of life with a single use. A powerful one, drawing on more of the currents, might die within days of inverted casting.”
No one spoke.
órla tottered to settle against my arm.
My head ached at possibilities, and consequences.
Quin finally stood. “Get some rest. You can join the Mages’ Council tomorrow and learn more of our plans. I would appreciate a fresh pair of eyes. That goes for you, too, órla. No one understands magic like its Daughter.”
“Did you hear that? You should listen to him more often.”