Chapter 9 #2
“Most of the time I have far more food than I need,” Sulla says. “But we’ve set up good systems for preservation. It serves us well when a newcomer finds their way here—and during the winter months when we haven’t enough magic in place to grow very much.”
We pop out into the mid-morning sunlight for another short trek past more gardens. Sulla points out a few shrubs in a cluster near the next doorway. “Mirewort, if you need it. We made sure to cultivate a few plants… This isn’t any kind of a life to bring a child into.”
I dip my head in agreement, taking note. In our hasty departure from the college, I left behind the small stash of the contraceptive herb that Alek procured for me.
I’ll have to keep a supply close by from now on. It’s not something I want to risk going without.
When we step through the next doorway, it becomes clear why the inhabitants of the Haven chose that particular spot to grow their mirewort.
More golden light washes over the hallway and the rooms branching off it, which do have doors though those are currently standing open.
Conjured warmth emanates from the rooms on the other side.
“These are typically the sleeping quarters,” Sulla explains.
“I’ve gotten into the habit of taking my rest in the base building since that’s where I spend most of my time anyway, but you and your companions could retire here for the nights if you’d like.
There’d be more room to spread out across.
If that’s something they’re willing to do. ”
She shoots me an amused look that brings a flush to my cheeks.
“Then we wouldn’t be quite so much in your hair,” I say. I’m not sure how pleased she is to finally have some company, but she must have gotten used to having a lot of peace and quiet.
“It’s fine. You’re where you need to be. The gods saw to that. And this is where we’ll do our most important work.”
Sulla nudges open one final doorway, and we climb a dozen stone steps carved between two rocky walls. When we emerge onto the plateau above, I lose my breath.
We’re nearly at the mountain’s peek. Mica-laced stone glints all around me under the shining sun.
The tops of the nearest trees rise to the level of my knees. Over them, I can see all across Silana to where the vibrant green and mottled autumn leaves of the land meet the crystal blue of the sky.
Julita makes a sound with a sharp inhalation. Wow.
It takes me a moment to find my own words. “That’s quite the view.”
“I’m rather fond of it.”
I tear my gaze away to take a closer look at the flat platform we’re standing on. It’s about ten paces across in a near-perfect circle, with the All-Giver’s and each of the godlen’s sigils carved along the edges.
Even though one of those godlen sent me here, my pulse gives a brief hitch at the call to the divine powers.
Sulla marks my reaction. “We ask them to have mercy on us and guide our way. Although you’re the first I’ve heard of who’s been guided quite so blatantly.”
She motions for me to sit across from her. “Let’s start with you telling me everything you can about how you’ve controlled your powers in the past.”
Shaking off my qualms, I sink onto the smooth stone and lean back on my hands. The warmth of the sun and the crisp forest scents contrast sharply with the twist of discomfort her question provokes.
“I touched on it a little last night,” I say.
“It’s hard to explain. I feel my magic clamoring to get out, get a sense of the things it could do, and I simply…
refuse. I guess I tighten up my body against the urge.
But mostly it’s seemed to be willpower. The times when it slipped away from me have been more about mental distraction or haziness than anything else. ”
Sulla nods as if this doesn’t surprise her. “Have you used any specific mental tricks? Imagery or similar?”
I reach back through my memories. “I instinctively picture my refusal as a sort of clamping down, like I’m shutting the power away, putting up walls around it. One time when I was really struggling, I imagined I was like a tree with a thick layer of bark that it couldn’t break through.”
“You should continue choosing concrete visuals that resonate with you and draw on them when you’re tamping down your magic. We’ve all found that approach the most effective strategy.” She pauses. “You also mentioned that suppressing it has led to some physical pain and possible injury.”
I grimace. “Yes. For a little more than a year now, it’s felt as if my power is attacking me from the inside when I refuse to use it. It only hurt mildly at first, but at its worst, the pain was so bad I couldn’t stand, and I coughed up blood a couple of times.”
Sulla sighs, the solemn cast that comes over her face making her look even older. “That’s the most treacherous part of the magic that flows through our souls. If too much of it builds up inside us without being given a chance to act on the rest of the world, it’ll act on us instead.”
I run my hands over the warm stone. “But when riven sorcerers use their magic, they start to go insane. Isn’t that true? I mean… I’ve never met any others besides you, but I can’t imagine so many would have been hunted down if they weren’t acting bizarrely enough to get noticed.”
And Stavros has encountered at least two brutally violent riven firsthand.
Sulla’s mouth slants at a pained angle. “Yes. It’s a difficult balance we must all walk. We must use our power regularly to conserve our own bodies, but not so much that it starts to addle our thoughts. That’s the main thing I can teach you.”
My spirits lift higher than I’ve dared to let them since we arrived here. “So you’ve found that balance? You use your magic, and you manage not to harm anyone in the process?”
And not to go mad either. She’s been aware of her power for more than thirty years, as far as I can tell, and she seems perfectly sane to me.
The older woman offers me a reassuring smile. “That’s the most basic goal of the teachings we pass on here. I’m glad I’ll have the chance to share what I was fortunate enough to learn.”
My magic stirs in my chest as if it’s picked up on the fact that it might get to play today.
I swallow thickly. “How do I start?”
Sulla smooths her hands over the skirt of her dress where it’s gathered around her crossed legs.
“One of the main principles is to keep the effects small. Just a little magic here and there. That makes it easier to keep a handle on both the external consequences and how the power affects you. Any of the more complex enchantments you see around the Haven are layers of smaller efforts that’ve been built up over time. ”
A laugh bubbles up my throat. “So you don’t have all those augmentations just for your convenience. It’s a way of channeling your magic into something useful, since you have to use it somehow.”
“Exactly.”
“But even letting a little out, there’ll still be some kind of backlash.”
“Yes,” Sulla says. “That’s inevitable. But using similar techniques to how you contain your magic, you can control both sides of the equation.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “How? I’ve wanted to, but… it always feels impossible.”
“That’s the part requiring the most concentration and forethought. You should always plan both the impact you want to make and how the consequences should play out before you bring your magic to bear.”
Sulla tips her head toward the sigil nearest to her, Jurnus’s curving lines.
“Let’s say I wanted to carve this mark a little deeper.
I need to think of what the obvious counteraction would be—if I’m reducing a little rock, something else would need to grow.
And then I decide what I wouldn’t mind seeing grow. Maybe the leaves on that shrub there.”
She points to a spindly bush clinging to the edge of the platform.
“It’s that simple?” I ask, barely able to believe it.
Sulla chuckles. “Not exactly simple. Not every effort you might want to make will have such a clear counter. And you need to imagine a reaction that’s big enough to fit what you’re trying to accomplish. That’s why keeping things small is particularly important.”
My heart is thumping even faster than before. “And once you’ve decided on all that…”
“You center yourself and ensure your mind is clear and your concentration steady. Then you picture both the action you want to carry out and how the countering energy should behave at the same time, as vividly as you can.”
She closes her eyes, resting one hand on the sigil and the other on her knee with her fingers pointing toward the shrub. Magic quivers through the air.
As I watch, a few of the shrub’s leaves tremble and stretch just a little longer.
When Sulla raises her hand, I can see that the etching digs deeper in the rock. She brushes a few bits of grit from her fingers.
“It only works if your choice of counteraction is appropriate,” she warns me. “If you try to balance out your intentions with something unsuitable, the magic will act otherwise however it sees fit.”
Keeping it small definitely sounds like a good idea, then, Julita remarks. But, Ivy, if this works… you could do just about anything!
Anything small. I’m not going to defeat the scourge sorcerers by carving little lines into stones.
But the idea that I could work with my magic even in this small way sets my pulse thumping giddily.
“Should I just… try it?” I ask.
“Why don’t you borrow my example for your first few attempts?
” Sulla gestures to the arching lines of Kosmel’s sigil.
“You could start with the godlen who guided you here, since he deserves some recognition for that. But take some time to simply meditate on your intentions and how you want them to play out first.”
“Right.”
I scoot over so I can rest my hand on Kosmel’s sigil. Closing my eyes, I picture its shape in my mind.
I also imagine the shrub on the other side of the platform. The breeze licking over the leaves I’m going to channel the backlash into. The sun gleaming off their pale green surfaces.
Breathe in, breathe out. Steady the thunder of my pulse. Convince myself that I really can harness my magic.
It’s only one small act. Even if I screw it up, no one should get hurt. But it doesn’t even sound that hard.
When I’ve built up enough certainty inside me, I form the images in my head—the grooves of the sigil digging deeper into the stone, the leaves on the shrub growing bigger in return.
My magic tugs at me, eager to join in. I crack open the walls around it just slightly.
Just enough for a faint tingle to shoot through my arms, shaped by the pictures I’ve drawn in my mind.
My pulse skitters, and the images waver. In a sudden panic, I jerk my power into me so forcefully I rock backward.
When I lift my hand, the sigil looks lopsided. I pressed one side of the symbol a little deeper but didn’t manage the whole thing.
One of the shrub’s leaves has expanded about twice as large as the others. It looks rather ridiculous.
It’s all right, Julita says. It was great for a first try.
I let out a bark of a laugh, but Sulla takes on a reassuring tone too. “That was an excellent start. See if you can hold your will firmer next time.”
After periods of steadying meditation, I attempt my carving twice more. The second time I manage to even out the sigil, but I crack the tip of one of the curved lines.
Sulla has me focus on sealing the crack while snapping a twig off the shrub. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt as victorious as when the rough edge beneath my fingers vanishes alongside a light crack of broken wood.
I glance around the platform, newly energized, but Sulla holds up her hand. “That’s enough for one session. Even minor magic adds up. We’ll find other ways to occupy ourselves for a few hours, and then we can return to practice in the afternoon.”
I clamp down on the impulse to protest. She knows the safe limits of our magic far better than I do.
And the fact that I’m excited to keep going is a warning in itself.