Chapter 17 Declan #2
“Atikus—”
“Just leave me alone. You’re better off without me.”
I stared into the man’s back.
Seeing my proud, powerful adopted father in this state shocked me more than any of the wonders I’d experienced over the past year. The once-jovial, perpetually positive Mage had been reduced to an immobile, helpless man filled with nothing but self-loathing and self-pity.
My gut turned at the sight.
And yet, beneath sadness, I also found righteous anger.
This man had raised me, gave me hope, taught me to laugh and love.
He’d taught me to read and write, to think for myself, and to challenge the thoughts of others.
He’d taught me everything that was good and right.
What right did he have to shun that love now?
How dare he give up when the world needed him?
When I needed him?
In response to my rising rage, my tunic flared, lighting every corner of the chamber with the brilliance of a hundred candles. I stood and stepped back from the bed, then spoke in a measured, commanding voice. “Arch Mage Atikus Dani, get out of that bed before I lift you out.”
Atikus’s head slowly turned, and he squinted through the tunic’s glow. “Fine. I’ll get up. Just turn that thing down, will you?”
I couldn’t suppress a grin and willed the tunic to dim, but only slightly.
Atikus sat up, his spindly legs dangling off the side of the bed, then rubbed his eyes with both palms. “I’m up. You happy?”
“Look at me,” I commanded.
“You sure got bossy since somebody taught you magic,” Atikus said before looking up. When he saw my eyes, he froze, his mouth agape. “Sweet Spirits. What in the—”
“We don’t know, and it’s not important right now. I came to restore your magic. Do you want my help or not?” I wasn’t sure if this approach would work, but I sensed the comfort I’d planned to offer was doomed to fail against the rocky shoals of the Mage’s languishing misery.
“You are wasting your time. I have been severed. There is nothing to restore.”
I reached forward and gripped his arm, shocked at how wraithlike the formerly hale man had become. I focused my intent into the center of Atikus’s chest and allowed my magic to flow into the man’s spirit.
There was nothing.
My Light flowed through every memory and thought, through every emotion, through every part of the Mage I could search, and still I found no remnant of magic.
I searched for more than an hour.
“See? Nothing,” Atikus grumbled, ready to return to his wallowing.
“Hush. I’ll be done when I’m done.”
Frustrated, I allowed my Light to dim.
My attention had turned to other thoughts when something caught my mental eye.
It was a tiny, almost imperceptible dot, something so small and dim I never would’ve seen it while my own brilliant Light shone.
I focused my inner sight and approached the dot, surprised when it didn’t grow larger as I came closer.
But something did change when I neared.
It pulsed—faintly.
Excitement thrummed in my chest.
I reached out with my magical sense to grasp the dot, hoping beyond hope, but was repulsed by an impenetrable wall that sent a shock wave through my soul. It wasn’t a wave of pain but rather a sickness or wrongness that oozed through my mind.
I shivered at its touch but was determined to save my mentor.
I redoubled my effort, drawing ever more power from my internal reserve and the tunic. I hammered into the barrier with all my might—only to receive an equally powerful retort.
Bile rose in my throat.
My mind swam.
I staggered and lost my connection to Atikus before tripping backward to land on the floor.
Atikus was down in a flash.
“Are you all right? Declan, can you hear me?” Concern marred the haggard man’s face. “I knew this was useless. Please, stop. I can’t have you hurt on my account.”
“I’m fine.” I shook my head to clear my mind, then looked up at Atikus. “But I think you’re wrong about being severed. I saw a Light, but it’s blocked by . . . something. When I tried to break through, it tossed me back as if I was made of paper.”
“That’s impossible,” Atikus muttered, shocked. “Our Mages searched. None of them could see anything. Are you sure?”
I nodded and grinned, hoping a measure of warmth might thaw him further. “You didn’t let the most powerful Mage alive take a look. You know, the one with the mystical, blazing eyes and brilliantly floppy hair?”
I flicked my hair back dramatically.
Despite himself, Atikus laughed. It was small at first but grew into a deep rumble that consumed his entire frame.
Like gazing at the rising sun, I watched as something within Atikus broke free of the malaise that had so gripped his soul.
“You always were impossible, never minding a word I said. Why did I think you would just leave me alone when I told you to?”
“No idea. You are a foolish old Mage, you know? That’s probably why you thought it would work.”
Atikus wiped away his tears and gripped me by the arm. “Declan, I’m sorry—”
I cut him off, wrapping the Mage in a tight embrace and burying my face in his shoulder.
Long moments later, I jerked back, blazing eyes wide. “Not to ruin the mood, but I have an idea. We need to get back to the currents.”
Atikus looked up, perplexed. “What currents? You mean the currents?”
“Sorry, you call it the vein. You know, the vein of magic that runs under the old Mages’ tower? That’s how I got here so quickly.”
Atikus stared in wonder. “You traveled the currents?”
I nodded. “I’ll tell you about all that later. Right now, we need to get back there and try again. I can draw power from the mist. It might give me enough strength to break through whatever that barrier is blocking your Light.”
We helped each other up and started for the door, then I stopped and turned back toward Atikus. “Um, we need to hurry and all, but, well, you stink of wine and who knows what else. I’m guessing you haven’t bathed or changed clothes in days.”
“I think it has been weeks.” Atikus ducked his head.
“Right. At least splash water on your face and change into a fresh robe. We can’t let the other Mages see you like this. You are still the Arch Mage.”
“I am pretty sure no one will notice my robes when they see your eyes. Can we get on with this?”
I shook my head and turned to lead us toward the vein.